


I Need A Hero

by UnravelMySoul



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Iron Man Home, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blackmail, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Father-Son Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Happy Hogan Isn't That Big Of A Jerk To Peter, Heavy Angst, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Breakdown, Molestation, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Poor Peter Parker, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony, Protective Tony Stark, Psychological Trauma, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Semi-Public Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tony Helps Peter, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is a Good Dad, Tony to the rescue, Vibrators, Virgin Peter, Virgin Peter Parker, father Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-01 12:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11486607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnravelMySoul/pseuds/UnravelMySoul
Summary: A teacher discovers Peter's secret double-life and uses it as blackmail in exchange for bringing Peter's grades up. Peter tries reaching out to Tony, but will he be able to get a hold of him before he's too far gone?





	1. Same Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [SPIDER-MAN HOMECOMING SPOILER] Set after Peter tells Tony he doesn't want to be an Avenger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my second Spider-Man related work, and I'm actually really excited about this one. After watching Spider-Man: Homecoming, I fell in love the Tom Holland's portrayal of Peter Parker. He makes him so innocent, loving, loyal, naive, child-like and it's so fitting for Peter. Now let's make something terrible happen to him.

      ~~Same Routine~~

* * *

 

 

          As he walks down the hall of the Avengers’ new headquarters, he can’t help the giddy excitement coursing through him that has him smiling from ear to ear. Even if it really was just a test, Tony asked him to be an Avenger. _Him!_ Little Peter Parker. Sure, it would be a dream come true, but he can’t leave Aunt May, Ned, or school; especially not the city that needs him. He just has too many things to take care of right now, so he’s glad it was all just a test.

          He hops into the backseat of Happy’s black car and takes out his camera phone and presses the ‘record’ button.

          “I can’t believe what just happened!” Peter’s voice is an octave higher due to his excitement, his arm is holding the side of his head in a surprised expression. “Mr. Stark, no- _Iron Man_ asked me to be an Avenger! He even made me this amazing high-tech suit that was on this pedestal thing and it was all glowing and shiny and ugh it was so cool!”

         Peter, in the midst of all his excitement, doesn’t notice Happy walking through the front door and down the cement steps of the Avengers facility. Happy walks to the side of the car and hears Peter’s rambling even before he opens the car door. He rolls his eyes and opens the door.

          “Who’s ‘Penis Parker’ now Flash?” Peter folds his fingers back in his signature web-shooting position and makes a web noise into the camera.

          “What are you doing?” Happy asked, sounding exasperated and way too old for this job.

          Peter fumbles with the phone before he looks to Happy, “Nothing…just making a-another video.”

          “You can’t send that to anyone. Put it away.”

          He hurriedly turns off the camera and puts his phone back in his pocket. With Happy still staring at him, he quickly puts his seat-belt on and sits with his hands resting on his lap. Happy nods, seemingly satisfied, and puts the keys in the ignition. Peter looks out the window and takes in the scene one last time. One day, he promises himself, he’ll live in that building and make a difference all over the world. He can train with Captain America (if that weird conflict between him and Mr. Stark ever goes away). Maybe even talk to Black Widow, one spider to another. Happy starts the car, Peter takes one last look at the building and exhales.

          “Make sure you have everything because we’re not coming back for it. You don’t need to go pee or anything do you?” Happy asked.

          Peter shakes his head, but quickly realizes Happy isn’t looking and clears his throat, “No, I-I’m fine, Happy.”

          They ride in silence, which Peter learned is the way Happy prefers it. Not long into the ride, the week’s antics finally catch up to him as he tries to keep his head from bobbing up and down. He leans against the cool window and closes his eyes, drifting off before realizing it.

          His arm is shaken and Peter startles awake with Happy’s hand still gripping his toned bicep. It’s evening, the sun shines just overhead, the weather perfect. Aunt May should be at work still, maybe he’ll make some dinner for her when she comes back or order takeout. He stares at the tall apartment building and exhales deeply. It isn’t Avengers worthy, but Peter couldn’t ask for better.

          “Alright, Peter,” Happy said tiredly. “Wake on up and have a good one. Don’t go running into trouble.” He turns back to the wheel before Peter has the chance to reciprocate and settles for a quick goodbye and a thank you. _Manners are important_ , Peter reminds himself.

          It only takes a few more weeks until he’s able to settle back into his normal life- well, as normal as a 15-year-old boy with crazy spider abilities goes. Of course, now things are different ever since Liz left, but that’s alright. He still has Ned, and he even made a new friend: Michelle, or "MJ". And everyday after school, he runs to his designated alley and strips his clothes as quickly as possible. The excitement of saving his city urges him to get undressed faster. Clad in his red and blue spandex, a gift he received out of the blue one day just sitting on his bed in a paper bag, courtesy of Tony Stark. He smiles wide under his mask and webs his backpack to the brick wall before taking off in a joyous sprint. Hopefully his backpack doesn’t end up missing…for the fifteenth time. Maybe he should find a completely different location for his stuff.

 _It’s a good day_ , Peter thought, mentally patting himself on the back. He sits on a fire-escape and looks over the city, listening for any trouble. He can’t help himself and pulls out his phone, ready to tell Happy of all his adventures and good deeds he’s done today.

          “Hey, Happy. It’s me, Peter…Parker, uh, Spider-Man,” Even though he’s always subjected to voicemail communication, he can’t faze out the happiness he feels at having the man’s number in the first place. “That nice woman gave me another churro today…I should really learn her name, I feel bad for calling her “that nice woman” all the time. I also saved a cat from a tree! I’ve _always_ wanted to do that! The little girl was so happy to have Marshmallow back- that was the name of her cat. It was white and super fluffy, so I guess the name fit. It was so cool! Her dad even gave me a thumbs-up and told me “thanks, Spider-Man.” He knew who I was! Then I did a couple flips for some fans. That’s crazy, right!? I have _fans_. They make me feel like I’m doing something good, like I can make a difference…you, know?” Peter trails off into silence, sighing softly. The euphoria slightly dissipates, making room for his insecurities.

          “I really- I just need…I wish that you would answer your phone…at-at least sometimes. Not everyday- just a little chat is enough. Or maybe Mr. Stark would give me his number so I wouldn’t have to bother you all the time. I hope my phone calls don’t bother you. Do I bother you? I hope not,” He let’s out an anxious laugh, “It’s…I need…maybe some guidance, or maybe, um, I don’t know. I know the citizens tell me I’m doing good, but maybe you or- or maybe Mr. Stark can say it too…Sometimes I just need…” He sighs softly again and looks over the buildings to the setting sun. “Never mind, I know you’re busy, which must mean that Mr. Stark is near impossible to reach…so, um, you guys just…just stay safe, okay? Don’t let Mr. Stark get into anything too dangerous…” He doesn’t know why, but the thought of Mr. Stark getting hurt beyond repair in some battle makes his chest tense and throat tight. “Okay, well…bye, Happy…This was Peter, uh, Parker.”

          Not a moment after hanging up the phone, he spots a man running with a woman’s purse causing a commotion. He jumps off the ledge and swings to save the day. Or at least save the day for _one_ person.


	2. Naivety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter sees no way out

~~Naivety~~

* * *

 

 

             “-and don’t forget to eat healthy and be active!” Captain America, staged inside of a boy’s locker room, smiles wide with his shield over his chest and his right thumb pointed up.

            Coach Wilson clicks off the television screen, “Alright, that concludes today’s class, have a good weekend.”

            Peter smiles, and Ned smiles knowingly back. P.E. is his last class of the day, which conveniently provides his pre-butt-kicking warm up. The boys walk down the wooden bleachers and touch down onto the newly waxed basketball court.

            “Peter, don’t forget that it’s your turn to help with the television,” Coach Wilson said.

            “Oh, right! Sorry, Coach Wilson, I’ll get right on that,” Peter turns to Ned and gives him an apologetic look. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Ned.”

            Ned leans in and initiates their handshake, “Don’t go too easy on all those baddies.”

            Peter smirks, “I won’t. Bye!”

            Peter jogs over to the T.V. and starts getting all the cords rolled up and tucked nicely in the cart, he turns to Coach Wilson, “Same place as always?”

            “No, I need to adjust some of the settings on the monitor so you can take it to my classroom. Follow me, the doors most likely locked.”

            Peter follows behind, wishing that his health coach would walk faster so he can breathe the fresh air of crime fighting. Coach Wilson unlocks the door and holds it open for Peter before stepping in afterwards.

            “Where do you want it?” Peter asked.

            “Near the back window is fine,” He responds. Peter hears the door close and lock behind him.

            The hairs on the back of his neck scream that something’s off, but he ignores it in favor of listening to his mind telling him that a teacher wouldn’t hurt him. Peter turns around and his heart skips a beat when his coach isn’t by the door. He whips his head towards the front of the room upon hearing a desk drawer open. _Calm down, Peter, you’re freaking yourself out for no reason. Just go to the locker room, get your stuff, and you’ll be saving the day like usual._

            “Is that all, Coach?” Peter asked, _why is my voice so high and breathy?_

            “One more thing, can you come here for a sec, Parker?” Coach Wilson said, head still looking down into the drawer, flipping through important files.

Peter has to force his legs to work, to drag his deadweight to the front of the room. He stands to the left of his teacher and holds his breath, his lips taut and brows slightly creased.

            “You’re failing, Parker,” Coach Wilson put simply.

            All the anxiety rushes out of Peter through his nostrils in one large breath. He has the urge to laugh but fights it down, this is not an appropriate time for that. Then reality sinks in, Peter never failed at any of his classes. He’s the top of his class, hell, he’s the top of the senior class too! Maybe even the whole school! He’s never had anything below an 95%. It must be a mistake, but when his teacher points to the computer screen next to his name, he can’t deny it. Sure, he wasn’t athletic prior to being bitten, but he can’t suddenly become a star player either. But he supposes freshman P.E. was so much easier than this class, maybe that’s why his non-athleticism withstood it. There’s no way he can fail his last P.E. class. He couldn’t retake a class, no way. That would mean his entire schedule for next year would be all out of whack…however, there is the option of summer school.

            Peter steps closer to the computer screen and cringes, “I-I don’t understand, what am I doing wrong? Last month you were complementing my sit-ups and now I’m failing?”

            Coach Wilson sighs and places a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “Look, kid, we can all see that you aren’t the most…active in the class, and that’s alright. It’s the amount of times that you skip class that affects your grade. Most students get their overall grade by having at least 80% just by showing up, however you have only 10% participation. I get it, you have places to be and people to see, but your education is more important than that. You need to stop cutting class. You’re lucky I haven't reported you to the Principle _or_ your guardian.”

            “I’m sorry, I-I, um…What can I do? I know you don’t really give out extra credit, but there must be something…please? I can’t have an ‘F’ on my transcripts. Aunt May would kill me.”

            Coach Wilson hardens his grip on Peter’s shoulder and pushes him to his knees. He leans back in his chair and reaches for his pants button. Peter’s eyes are confused and he tilts his head slightly to the side, eyes constantly looking from Coach Wilson's, to his lap then back to his face. When the sound of the zipper echoes in his ears his eyes grow wide in understanding, disgust, and horror. He goes to stand but he’s shoved back down by his coach’s heavy hand.

            “We can make this real easy, Pete. By tomorrow, you’d have miraculously jumped an entire letter grade seemingly overnight. Sure, you may be thinking how wrong this is, how illegal this is, how I’m going to jail for even initiating such an act. But I know. I know all about you… _Spider-Man_.”

            Peter flinches back, his eyes growing large, “W-what- what are you talking about. I- I’m not-”

            Coach Wilson continues, knowing that he’s made the right assumption, “I remember I was walking on the football field and saw you jumping over the fence in one leap. I couldn’t believe my eyes; here was one of my most un-athletic students with a vertical that’s in-human. So, I followed you, found your clothes in an alley thrown all over the place. At first, I thought something terrible might’ve happened, but then I found your backpack surrounded in these…spider webs. I cut the webs with my pocket knife and opened your backpack, found your student ID. Now, there were two theories: Spider-Man stripped and kidnapped you, or _you_ were Spider-Man. The latter made more sense. I’ve been watching you, I’ve seen you lift the student lockers with _one_ hand and grab your suit. Now, if you don’t want the _world_ knowing this little secret of yours, you’ll do what I say. And because I’m a compromising guy, I’ll bump up your grade in return.”

            Peter can’t speak, he can’t even breathe. This isn’t happening to him, to Spider-Man. No matter how badly he wants to cry, he knows better than to show weakness in front of his enemies. If he denies “servicing” him, he’ll put everyone he loves and cares about in danger. His Aunt, Ned, MJ, possibly Happy and Mr. Stark, and maybe even everyone in the school if the bad guys figure out where he is. And yes, endangering Coach Wilson is not something he wants either, even if he considers him one of the bad guys now. But all that reasoning means he’ll have to…and that’s something he can't bring himself to do either, which is selfish, right? Putting himself first when he just made an entire list of reasons to just suck it up and, well…suck it. He nods to himself and straightens his back. With shaking hands, he grips the insides of Coach Wilson’s jeans.

            “That’s a good boy,” Coach Wilson said, carding a calloused hand threw Peter’s baby soft hair, receiving a flinch in return. “If you keep this up, I’ll give you a reward.”

            He holds Peter’s head in one hand and takes himself out with the other. He’s already hard and standing tall and proud. Peter finds it difficult to swallow past the lump in his throat as his head is brought closer to his coach’s intimidating length. The tip pokes at his smooth, pink lips, making him gag already. He hasn’t even had his first kiss yet and he’s already giving someone a blow-job. Its salty and makes his mouth dry, so he makes the effort to create more saliva which elicits a moan above him. His cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment, not that Coach Wilson seems to care as he speeds up his ministrations. It may only be the tip that can fit in the teen’s mouth, but Peter gags and grips hard on the man’s jeans regardless. This goes on for another minute before a thick, salty slime spills down Peter’s throat, making his stomach lurch. He barely makes it to the wastebasket as bile races up his throat.

            “That was better than I thought it would be. Such a _good boy_. Come here, straddle my lap so I can give you your reward,” Coach Wilson tucks himself back and pats his lap.

           Spiting one last time then wiping his mouth, Peter gets up and realizes how much he’s shaking. He clenches his fists and tries to still himself. Slowly, he sits down on his coach’s lap but refuses to look the man in the eyes. A large hand grabs his entire private area and squeezes, testing for Peter’s reaction. His heart is pounding in his ears when his coach begins the process of taking out his flaccid member. He pulls open the elastic waistband of his yellow gym shorts and reaches into his boxers. His head is swimming and he sways back. Coach Wilson reaching a hand to the small of Peter’s back to steady him and wraps a warm hand around his student. Too much input. His senses are dialed to eleven. He tries to take deep even breathes, tries to calm his quickly rising heart rate.

            “You turned 15, Parker?” Even though he’s waiting for an answer, it sounded more like a statement.

            “Y-yes…” Peter was trying to focus elsewhere, and not the weird little pulsing waves building under his balls. There’s too much input.

            “I’m curious, is your cum still clear or have you reached a milkier texture yet? Tell me, Parker, when was the first time you masturbated?” Coach Wilson asked, slowing down his fist around Peter’s hardening length.

            “P-please don’t make me t-talk,” Peter said, his voice high and tight, his eyes squeezed shut and head tilted to the side. _Maybe you can just block it all out, pretend it’s not even happening._

            “Answer me,” Coach Wilson squeezes hard around Peter’s tip and he chokes out a sob at the sudden pain. He’s too sensitive, it’s too much.

            “I-I don’t…I don’t know, I don’t know. I spend my nights helping people,” By speaking, Peter’s focus can’t be anywhere but here and the waves behind his balls start to ache. “The first time I- I tried…I tried to, um, I w-was thirteen b-but I couldn’t finish…I was scared of what would happen.” – and then he was bitten and his senses went through the roof, making everything hypersensitive and frightening to do alone, but he can’t tell Coach Wilson that.

            “Scared huh? How childish,” Coach Wilson chuckles but doesn’t slow down.

            Peter whimpers and stutters out a breath. He inhales deeply and lets out a keening noise he didn’t know he could make. But he doesn’t care, the slow movements around his private area is making him ache and shiver. His hips buck forward into the man’s hand without his permission, but that extra feeling made the ache turn into something warm that spreads to his pelvis, making the ache let up a little. He did it again and again, his expression softening as to relish the warmth building and tightening in his stomach. It feels like an itch that feels so wonderful, so very good to relieve. He goes to thrust again but a hand holds him down, preventing him from moving so he’s forced to take the slow movements that make the ache come back full force. During those moments of bliss, he nearly forgot about Coach Wilson’s being there.

            “I-it hurts…” Peter can’t even recognize his own voice. It’s breathy, labored, high pitched, and whiny. It’s fearful.

            “What do you mean? It isn’t supposed to hurt, Parker,” Peter can hear his coach’s voice almost like he’s distant. But it’s mocking and patronizing, “Don’t you feel it building, and building, and building? Getting so hot and tight that you feel like it can’t get any tighter. As if the pressure has nowhere to go but out. Let it, Parker, let it build until you’re filled with the need, the _need_ to release, until you are filled with the _pleasure_. And when you can’t take anymore, let it out.”

            Peter can hardly register what his teacher said, his heart beat is deafening and thuds erratically in his ears. The ache won’t go away, it feels like he can’t breathe. He reaches a hand between them and tries to move the man’s hand to make the pain stop, but consequently, the hand comes up to slap Peter in the face.

            “That was not okay. You do not touch yourself unless you have been given permission. I was close to letting you off easy, but now we’ll wait.”

            Peter wasn’t trying to touch himself, not when he’s hurting this much, but his coach doesn’t know that and grabs both of Peter’s arms and holds them in front of him in a strong grip. At first, Peter thought that by removing Coach Wilson’s hand would cease the pain, instead it doubled it and he let’s out a stuttering cry. He squirms and whimpers, his breathing speeding up. He chokes out a sob as his eyes begin to burn. It needs to go away. It hurts too much.

            “Please, stop. It hurts…please,” Peter begged, eyes wide open and filled with tears. There is just too much input. He can’t handle it.

            “What do you need me to do?” His coach asked in a low voice.

            “Make it go away…please,” Tears fall down Peter’s cheeks and off his trembling chin. “It h-hurts.”

            “Good boy.”

            Coach Wilson let’s go of Peter’s arms and brings a hand back to Peter’s length and one to his hips to steady him. His movements are faster this time, they're urgent and precise. With each up stroke, he twists at the tip which sends waves all through Peter’s body. He only lasts two more strokes before he screams his release. Coach Wilson places a hand over Peter’s mouth and continues to stroke harder. The 15-year-old convulses as clear cum shoots out of him in a small stream. He’s trembling, but Coach Wilson continues to massage and pull on his length. It’s too much input. His senses are burning. It feels like he’s on overload, like he can’t move as static travels through his body. He sobs and holds onto the arm connected to the hand covering Peter’s mouth. It isn’t long until the fast-moving hand makes the static turn into more achy-pleasure and he’s cumming again, this time silently with closed eyes. His knees curl inward with the force of his release, his entire body quivering.

            “Nice…so good. That’s it, let it out. Good, good.”

            At first, Peter can’t tell if that’s coming from inside his head or in front of him. His head spins and he leans forward to rest on the sturdy chest of his coach.

            “Tuck yourself away and get going. Your grade will be posted by Monday. Have a nice weekend.”

            Peter is amazed how casual his coach can sound after something like this, but he follows instruction nonetheless. It feels uncomfortable to have his private area confined and he hopes it isn’t something he should be concerned about. On still trembling legs, he silently walks out of the classroom, not looking back. He takes the bus home and chooses to take all seven flights of stairs to his apartment. Aunt May isn’t home yet, so he takes a couple showers before he goes to his room. He opens the window and leans his elbow and head against the window sill. He feels guilty for not wanting to be Spider-Man right now, but after that, he just wants to find Aunt May and ask for her famous cuddles…maybe cry for a little. His stomach twists and he hugs it with his left arm. Why is there a piece of him telling him to call Happy, to make him give the phone to Mr. Stark or to just give Peter his number? Why is that piece of his mind telling him that Mr. Stark would protect him, would make the bad man go away? Why do the tears fall with Mr. Stark on his mind?

            Would he be ashamed of Peter? Would he take his suit away, again? He hates it when Mr. Stark is made at him, it makes Peter feel like a terrible person. Despite all his fears, he drags out his phone and dials Happy. The sound of the phone being answered is enough to make Peter smile wobbly through the tears.

            With a shaky voice, Peter goes to speak first, “Hi, Hap-”

            “Look, kid, I’m real busy right now and I can’t have you calling me all the damn time. I get it, you want to sound mature and be a total bad-ass for Tony, but you don’t need to tell me about the churros or the cats in trees, okay? My message box isn’t your daily diary entry, either. Just keep doing what you’re doing and only call when something serious happens. Tony’s a busy man, he has a lot to deal with. You’re a smart kid, I’m sure you understand that. So, don’t call or text me asking about missions or about how you were involved in a “grand theft bicycle” crime.”

            Happy hangs up before Peter even has the chance to greet him properly. _Now that…that is just the cherry on top, isn’t it?_

            This is how Aunt May finds him, bawling his eyes out on his bed in the dark room, his phone on the carpet next to the wall with a shattered screen. She shushes him and whispers sweetly in between Peter’s hiccupping and whimpering. At least he get’s one thing he wanted: some cuddle time with one of the people he loves most in this world.


	3. Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter learns how cruel some people can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I can't express how happy I am at the response (mostly shocked, but super happy). I was smiling all the while reading your comments, a laugh here and there. Thank you for taking the time to read my sad, sad story! I actually got a brilliant idea from [TouchoftheWind] that will honestly make Peter's days a little darker.  
> That being saiddddd...
> 
> WARNING: The Following Contains Content FAR Worse Than Peter's Previous Encounter.

~~Innocence~~

* * *

 

 

**Saturday**

           “I’m going to be working all weekend,” Aunt May said at breakfast. She wraps her arms around Peter’s head in a hug, who sat at their booth/table picking at a bowl of marshmallow charms. The colorful marshmallows made the milk a pastel blue color, but this time he doesn’t feel eager and cheery to eat his sweet breakfast cereal.

           “I’m sorry I won’t be able to see you that much, sweetie…Do you feel better?” She’s referring to last night’s breakdown, Peter knows it. Even though he feels empty, it does feel better than having an emotional overload. He nods his head in confirmation, not making eye contact with anything but the soggy cereal. Last night, it took hours to calm him down. Aunt May started crying, which in turn only made Peter feel far worse. He couldn’t lie to her, but he also couldn’t tell her the truth; it would devastate her. He told her he’s failing gym class and she just held him close, telling him he can easily make it up. In the end, she came up with the idea to stay after school and make up missed work and participation. She’s going to call Coach Wilson and set up a schedule for Mondays and Wednesdays to be after school lessons. It all made him feel trapped and claustrophobic.

           “Why don’t you spend the weekend at Mr. Stark’s? I know that he let you stay there a few weeks ago for a night, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Do you want me to call him and ask?”

           Peter’s eyes sting, he wants more than anything to see Mr. Stark, but after being scolded by Happy it seems like something he shouldn’t do.

           “N-no, May…thank you, though. I’ll be fine.” His voice is soft and gentle, a reflection of his human nature. He’s always been this way, that’s how people take advantage of him most times…like now. If only he can be selfish and save himself without caring about everyone who would be put into danger. Just the thought of doing something so awful makes him ashamed of himself.

           Aunt May grabs his chin and brings his brown eyes up to meet with hers. She kisses his forehead slowly and rubs a thumb over his cheek. His eyes burn and he feels the urge to beg her to stay home and make him feel better, but he knows that she can’t afford time off, not if they still want to keep the apartment.

           “I love you, Peter. Be safe.”

           “I love you, too,” Peter said, a sniffle making Aunt May bring him into a warm embrace.

           “Bye, sweetie.”

~

           It feels good to get out of the house and swing around the city. The fresh air almost making him forget about what happened to him. After Aunt May left, he took two more showers, making it a total of seven showers since last night. Yet, he still feels dirty.

**Sunday**

           He still can’t eat, he feels more anxious than yesterday. May confirmed the after school lessons with Coach Wilson starting tomorrow. As soon as she left, he jumped into his Spidey suit and leaped out the window. He thought of not catching himself, to just let gravity do the work but instantly thought better of it. He can’t leave May. So, he moves. He can’t stop moving. If he stops moving he’ll think about _it_ , and if he thinks about _it_ he won’t have anyone to go to when he breaks down. So, he doesn’t stop swinging, running, fighting crime, saving people. By nightfall he collapses on his bed, completely spent. He takes off his suit and sinks into the mattress.

**Monday**

           He feels sick, clammy, and nauseous. He hasn’t slept more than a few hours, tossing and turning all night with the ghost touches of his couch on his skin. His stomach is churning and cramping like it’s trying to eat him alive. He vomits at breakfast and Aunt May says he should stay home, but he knows he can’t do that. Not until his grade is back up and Coach Wilson doesn’t have any reason to do this to him. He reminds her about his first after school lesson and how he can’t flake out after only just setting it up…it’d be rude of him.

           Walking towards the bus, he decides to check his phone and opens the online student grading portal. He cringes at the cracked screen and knows he won’t be getting a new phone for a while. He stops dead in his tracks and feels like he’ll breakdown right there on the sidewalk. _This- this isn’t fair! How can he do this?_

           He spends the entire school day jittery and tense. Ned tells him to go to the nurse’s office but he’s able to convince him that his spider powers can heal the sickness within the hour. P.E. finally comes around and Peter can’t seem to walk into the classroom. Today they’re having a test and he’ll let everyone leave early once they finish…everyone except him. Ned tells him he has to go to his younger sister’s spelling bee and won’t able to meet up with him. Peter said it was fine and is actually glad Ned has something else so he doesn’t have to come up with another lie.

           He can’t focus on the test, not when he can feel Coach Wilson’s eyes drilling holes into him. The room get’s emptier and emptier until it’s just Peter, jumping his leg up and down, biting his nails and scribbling answers onto the paper. He’s sweating, his eyes can’t seem to focus and he thinks he should’ve just listened to May and let her call Mr. Stark when she offered. Coach Wilson approaches Peter and tells him the school bell had rung twelve minutes ago and that time was up. Peter has only finished up to question four of ten.

           “Just because I’m giving you a pass to bump your grades up, doesn’t mean you stop trying completely.”

           Peter ignores the remark and puts his pencil down, “How come you only added .5 points to my grade? I thought you said you’d bring it up an entire letter?”

           “I decided to start grading you on your performance, and last Friday was definitely not worthy of an entire letter grade. You had to be punished, remember?”

           Peter’s cheeks burn pink as he remembers his coach holding his arms away from himself, making him ache all over. He swallows and nods his head.

           “Because your aunt was so adamant about getting you into additional lessons, I thought I’d make it a little interesting today. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll make your 57% into a 70%.”

           That’s practically two letter grades, so Peter nods his head and bites his lip. Coach Wilson guides him over to his desk and tells him to suck. Peter drops to his knees and lets a tear fall down his left cheek. How is he going to survive another day of this if it nearly destroyed him last time? It doesn’t taste any better, it still makes Peter want to vomit but this time his holds it in. He needs that 70%, he needs this to be over as quickly as possible. Coach Wilson is rougher this time, he grabs the back of Peter’s head and shoves his length in to the half way point. Peter’s jaw hurts, he can feel his lip cracking and some of the hairs on his head pull out. Its ruthless and remorseless. Peter can’t breathe and he’s scared he’ll die with this man in his mouth. Then that slime is shooting back into his throat, again, and he feels the need to take seven more showers and purge.

          It comes back up several times before Peter forces it down and swallows. He feels disgusted when Coach Wilson calls him a “good boy”. He pulls Peter up, tucking himself back into his pants, and opens the desk drawer. He tells Peter to take all his clothes off this time and to fold them neatly into his backpack. It takes five minutes of telling himself he needs to do this because he’s protecting all the people he cares about. Coach Wilson doesn’t rush him, and he thinks he won’t do anything unless Peter outright refuses. So, he doesn’t. He starts with his blue sweater and folds it as nicely as he can; usually Aunt May folds his laundry, he hopes it’s up to standard. He slips off his white sneakers and sets them aside and unbuttons his pants. Now, he stands in only his Captain America socks and underwear, frozen.

           Coach Wilson must see his hesitation and folds his arms, “How about this: you can keep your socks on.”  

           Peter knows that arguing can jeopardize his “performance score” and keeps his mouth shut. He slowly takes his boxers off and folds them before placing it in his backpack with the rest of his clothes and spider suit. He looks at his suit and turns away in guilt. He tries to cover himself with his hands and won’t look his coach in the eyes. His coach takes his backpack and shoes to his closet and locks them away. Peter can feel panic rise into his chest, with his clothes so far away he feels trapped and afraid. He looks down to the floor and feel shame pool in his stomach when he sees his socks. _Would Captain America let this happen? Of course not, you disgusting piece of trash! You’re weak and you’re pathetic. You can’t even call Mr. Stark because you’re afraid of Happy’s words. They’re just words, for crying out loud! Call him! Call for help! Get your head out of your ass and call for HELP!_ Coach Wilson gets on his knees in front of Peter and grabs both of his wrists with both of his hands. He holds them against the desk and stares at the boy before him. He breathes deeply while Peter stands before him, falling apart inside. Peter’s inner fight shudders and deflates, _it’s too late, anyways…He’s locked my phone away._

           “You’ve always been a little behind the other boys haven’t you? Barely any hair growth yet and still shooting clear cum,” He chuckles to himself and Peter burns under his hungry gaze. “You’re perfect.”

           He engulfs Peter’s length in his mouth. Peter chokes on a strangled sounding gasp. He’s never experienced something so suddenly pleasurable as this. He throws his head back in a silent moan. His legs shake and threaten to buckle under him. Coach Wilson takes his hands away from pinning Peter’s wrists to keeps his hips upright. Peter moves his hands forward and grips onto his coach’s stripped polo shirt. It’s only been a minute and his breath catches in his throat as an unexpected wave of pleasure explodes out of him. He curls forward and lets out a short gasp. Coach Wilson places Peter in his chair and opens a drawer. Peter heaves and pants from the power of his orgasm. Coach Wilson turns back around with duct-tape and a weird looking electronic thing. He first tapes Peter’s ankles together, then goes to his wrists to tape them behind his back. He puts the final strip of tape over Peter’s mouth when someone knocks on the classroom door.

           “Shit!” Coach Wilson whispers. “I forgot O’Neil needs to speak with me. If you make one sound, or try _anything_ I will convince him to join me and we’ll both have our way with you, got it?”

           Peter doesn’t want to believe that there are other people capable of something like this, but the fear is too great and he nods his head frantically. The device is round and rubber-like and Coach Wilson puts it around the tip of Peter’s length. He pulls Peter forward and places him under his desk, out of view. He hears his coach turn on soft playing jazz music before opening the door. Peter’s shaking terribly, he hopes that he isn’t shaking the desk. He hears Coach O’Neil (his old health coach during freshman year) at the door then promptly welcomed in. They come to the desk and take their seats, a meeting ready to be conducted. Coach Wilson rolls his chair closer to Peter and reaches a hand to his lap. Peter watches him take out a small red remote from his pocket. It only has one control on it, looks like it can only slide up or down. His coach brushes a thumb over the control before sliding it up slightly. Peter’s hips make a small jolt and breath escapes his nostrils quickly. His muscles refuse to stop quivering as the device brings his soft length to life.

           Now he knows why the music was turned on, the vibrations could be heard if the silence grows between the two coaches. The intensity keeps increasing, and Peter finds that he can’t control the way his hips roll and jut randomly. His muscles contract and his heart thuds in his chest. However, he stays silent. It would not only be shameful to be found in such a state, but he would be embarrassed and terrified of what follows. If Coach Wilson will keep true to his threat. He bites his tongue and hopes the duct-tape will stay on his mouth with all the sweat beading on his skin. That familiar feeling comes back, a feeling he’s learned means he’s near the end. He can feel his balls smack into him, his muscles contract, and he’s so ready for it to end. The vibrations stop and he has to squeeze his eyes and bite his tongue hard to not make any keening noises. He’s doing it, again. Coach Wilson is going to torture him. It feels like minutes pass by, and maybe they have, but Peter can’t take it anymore. His body starts trembling with built up tension, his eyes release tears, and he aches for relief.

           He’s being pulled up and flipped over the desk so that his rear is facing the white-boards. He didn’t even hear Coach O’Neil leave. The sound of a bottle snapping closed reaches his ears right before something cold traces his rear entrance. He goes to stand straight, but Coach Wilson holds him down. _Why would his coach need to be back there?_ Peter frantically thought. One finger is inserted and Peter nearly falls because his legs were trembling from both fear and his cut off release. The vibrator starts up again, this time on an almost nonexistent setting. A second finger is added and the air leaves Peter’s lungs. He’s being stretched and pulled in such an uncomfortable way. He’s confused and afraid for what’s to come. By the time the third finger is inside him, Peter is releasing a constant stream of pre-cum, but he doesn’t know why. His erection feels hot and too hard. It’s starting to hurt again and he doesn’t know what his body wants or why it’s reacting to this man in such a way.

           The fingers are pulled out of him and are replaced with something far bigger. His face goes red as he holds his breath while the large appendage enters his virgin body. The air is knocked out of him, the duct-tape making it an obstacle when all he wants to do is heave and sob. He starts off with a slow pace, tearing Peter in two, making him sob behind the tape. Then he hits something that makes Peter buck his hips backward. He hits it again and this time Peter moans long and loud. His thighs clench and quiver, sweat beading up all over his skin. Coach Wilson smirks and quickly starts pounding into that same spot with reckless abandon. Peter screams in confused-ecstasy as that place inside him is itched so deliciously, making his mind go into a frenzy. He’s so close to finishing. His senses are on overload, a constant flow of burning waves punching him in the stomach. It’s almost too much, that is until Coach Wilson turns the vibrator on it’s highest setting. Peter cums hard, his eyes rolling back, his back arching, butt lifting, voice cracking in time with his forced moans of pain. His coach doesn’t stop, apparently not near his end yet.

           The constant pounding into that special spot mixed with the high intensity vibrations make Peter cum again, and again. He’s sobbing as his final orgasm rocks his body. He’s legs are trembling uncontrollably, there’s a mess on the tile floor, and his rear entrance won’t stop opening and closing. He hears Coach Wilson take a picture and knows that he’s lost. He’s not going to win this battle. The tape is cut from his ankles and he spreads his legs to get a firm stance. When the tape around his wrists are cut, he brings them forward to slowly take off the tape on his mouth.

           Coach Wilson sits back in his chair and reclines slightly, “You were a _very_ good boy today. You should’ve seen yourself. Look how much you came for me. What do you say?”

           Peter turns around on shaking legs, his face is a mess of tears and a devastating expression, “…T-thank you,” He says quietly.

           “Go get dressed and head on home.”

           And that’s what he did. He stopped by the school restroom and made sure he looks more presentable in case he runs into anyone he knows. His eyes are even emptier than they were this morning.

~

           May isn’t home, and shouldn’t be for a few more hours. Even though he’s already showered three times, purged twice, he still feels disgusting. Maybe it’s because he _is_ disgusting, now. His chest tightens to the point he has to clutch and rub at it to ease the pain, but it does little. His breathing picks up and he starts pacing his room and runs a hand threw his damp hair. Black dots come and go and he does the breathing exercise Aunt May taught him last night. His breathing is back to normal and the black dots are gone, but the pain in his chest won’t go away. He goes to his “work bench” and moves a few keyboards and tools around and finds an x-acto knife. He’s heard of people doing this to calm themselves down and takes a deep breath. He drags the sharp blade across his left wrist and makes a shallow red line. A sad upturn of his lip erupts on his face when the pain chips away with each deep breath and cut, it’s like a little system. He’ll inhale deeply then exhale along with the drag of the blade. With twelve angry red cuts on his inner forearm, he begins to panic. _Why did you do this? You’re such an idiot! How are you supposed to hide this from people? You’re lucky that it’s fall. Are you happy now?_

           Happy. He takes out his phone and fights down the need to call. He settles for one quick text:

**To Happy:**

**6:47 p.m.**

           Hi, Happy. It’s Peter Parker. I hope everything is going well.

           He puts the phone down and wishes someone would ask him how he’s doing once in a while. He isn’t as well put together as people seem to think. Not since Uncle Ben was killed because Peter was too blind to see that he was also hurting the people he loves. Because he’s Spider-Man. He’s vowed from that day that he won’t let anyone he loves get hurt if he can stop it, no matter the cost. He wants Happy to ask how he’s doing. Because if Happy cares, that means Mr. Stark cares, right? The pain is back in his chest and he clutches at his hair, pulling hard. _Please, stop…please, please, please._ The tears won’t stop, he wants his Aunt to come home, he wants Mr. Stark to appreciate him, he just wants to be held and told that everything’s going to be okay.

 

**Tuesday**

           May had to leave early this morning, she’s putting in extra hours to pay for Peter’s after school lessons. He just wants to scream at her, tell her to make it stop, to stop making him go through this. However, he stills his tongue and hugs her goodbye instead. It isn’t her fault, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing. He doesn’t eat breakfast and heads for the door before stopping. He slips off his backpack and peers inside. What’s the point of even bringing his suit, anymore? He takes it out and makes sure he stores it in his attic before making his way to school.

           He can’t breathe by the end of the day. His ribs feel tight, his forearm itches with a false sense of security. Constantly reminding himself that he doesn’t have extra long sessions with his coach isn’t making him feel better. He knows that he’s going to have to at least blow him or allow him to touch Peter. That’s what has him swaying in P.E. class, the thoughts. They’re running the perimeter of the basketball court because the track is being used for practice at the moment. Around the second lap, Peter’s head gets fuzzy and black dots dance before him. He looks to his coach and feels his throat close, preventing the air from coming in. Ned looks over to Peter and watches him faint.

           Trees and buildings flit by like a film strip. His eyes try to adjust to the brightness of the sun and he takes in his surroundings. He jumps, startled when he realizes he’s in a small car. His backpack is on the floor under his legs, his chair is reclined in a slight angle, and his head his slowly starting to clear up all the haze.

           “May, what happened?” Peter said, sounding tired and confused.

           “You overexerted yourself.”

           Peter snaps forward and hits his back against the car door. His seat belt is stretched and wraps around his body awkwardly as he stares gapingly at the driver. His eyes release tears, his heart hammers against his rib cage, and he grabs a fistful of his hair.

           Coach Wilson doesn’t take his eyes of the road, “The nurse agreed to me taking you home. I let May know what happened and looks like she thought it would be a great idea if I made sure you made it inside alright.”

           Peter shakes his head slowly, eyes wide and unblinking, “No. No…no,” He starts shaking his head faster and pulls his legs to his chest. “Please, don’t. Please, please, please. Not in my home. P-please, I-I w-wont- I can’t! Please!” Peter’s panicking, breathing frantically.

           Coach Wilson parks on the street in front of Peter’s apartment and steps out of the car. Peter watches him insert quarters into the parking meter. Wilson opens Peter's door and unbuckles him. He slings his backpack over his shoulder and guides Peter inside. They go up the elevator, with each rising number Peter feels his body tremble that much harder.

           “Unlock your door,” Coach Wilson commands.

           Peter obeys and takes a few attempts to get the key in the lock before Wilson is pushing him inside and shutting the door behind him.

           “Where’s your room?”

           Sobbing, Peter points to the room with the ajar door.

           “When is your aunt coming home?” Wilson drops Peter's bag at the door and walks over to the terrified 15-year-old. He rubs his calloused hands up and down the child's shoulders in a mock attempt to calm him down.

           “Eight…”

           Coach Wilson looks to the microwave clock, it’s only 2:57 p.m., “Be a good boy for me and show me a good time.”

 

**Friday**

           The week finishes up and he’s only been raised to a 66%. He looks pale, he’s lost weight from purging all the filth, his arms are angry and messy, his eyes are emotionless and light purple underneath. Coach Wilson doesn’t tell him to stop cutting, or tell him to put on more weight. He just uses him and tosses him. He can’t even remember when he got home or when the knife was back in his skin.


	4. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what the title implies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN, thank you all for the lovely comments and kind words! I never expected this story to end up being liked so much. Thank you for reading it and I hope you enjoy this chapter! xoxo

~~Breaking Point~~

* * *

 

 

           “Do you have plans for fall break, sweetheart?” Aunt May and he are settled on the couch together watching cartoons. She runs her thumb up and down over his shoulder and plays with his hair. Without her, he never would’ve made it past day three.

           “No,” Peter’s voice is quiet and hesitant, something he’s been doing out of his control lately. “N-Ned said he was going to visit family in New Jersey.”

           “Good, good…I called Mr. Stark, well, his assistant actually, but he connected me to Mr. Stark once he knew I was your guardian,” She said sweetly. Peter feels hurt that Happy would fetch Mr. Stark so easily for May but not for him… _maybe he just doesn’t like you._

           “He’s coming to pick you up and take you upstate for the week,” She finished in false excitement, but Peter doesn’t know why she would do that. “You always seem so happy when Mr. Stark comes around, or when you talk about him, and I…you’ve been so distant lately and you never smile anymore,” Aunt May sounds choked up and Peter suddenly feels like crap. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you won’t open up to me, and that’s fine, but you need to open up to someone because I can see that it’s eating you alive.”

           Peter’s eyes burn and he rubs at them to try to make the tears go away. Seeing May cry always makes Peter cry, always makes him feel guilty and useless.

           “I-I’m sorry, May. I’ll go with him,” Peter offers a small smile and she wipes a thumb over his cheek, catching a cold tear. He’d do anything to make her smile, to keep her safe.

           “I love you, Peter. You’re all I have left.”

           “I know…I know.”

~

           “Peter, Mr. Stark is here,” Aunt May calls.

           Tony looks around the small apartment for the second time and feels such a loving family atmosphere. He still can’t believe how the kid’s aunt looks so incredible. That being said, she looks like she hasn’t slept in days. She told him about Peter’s sudden behavior change, that he hardly eats, how she can hear him throwing up in the middle of the night. At first, Tony thought she was freaking out over a simple cold or stomach bug, but her voice told him that she was scared. He can’t deny that he cares about the small family, so he drove down with Happy as soon as he could. He hears soft footfalls and knows it must be Peter. He turns with a smile that instantly drops. The kid looks like a ghost. Worse than his aunt. It’s obvious he’s lost weight, his hands are shaking noticeably, but the worst part is his eyes…they’re empty. There’s no longer that child-like amazement he used to receive every time the boy looked up to him. He doesn’t know what to say or do, but luckily Aunt May beats him to it.

           “I already gave Happy your bags, they should be in the car, as should you two,” She said, looking at the two males in the room. “Be a good boy, okay Peter?”

           Tony’s brows furrow at the flinch and brief sadness that were lost in Peter’s eyes.

           “I love you, sweetie,” Aunt May said, one hand behind Peter’s neck and the other running through his wavy hair.

           “I love you, too.”

           His voice, Tony thinks, is so soft- softer than usual and doesn’t contain that same youthful cheer as before. What happened to him?

~

           The car ride is silent and Tony doesn’t know how to break it. He can even see Happy glancing back through the review mirror at the 15-year-old boy looking out the window. Before, it was if Tony couldn’t get the kid to stop asking questions and to stop bouncing all over the place with his camera phone. Now...now he wont even move. He’s been in that same position since they left Queens.

           Happy opens Peter’s door first and receives a soft ‘thanks, Happy’ that both men have to strain to hear. Tony swears that it sounded like the kid was near tears. They make their way into the new facility and Tony almost begs whoever’s listening that Peter will have that excited look he had the first time he came into the place. But he didn’t even look up from the floor. He remembers Aunt May telling him he’s changed ever since she found him crying in his room last weekend. What could’ve happened in a week that made Peter change so dramatically. An idea pops into his head and he’s sure the young genius will love it.

           “Happy, grab Peter’s bags, I think he’d like to see his very own Avengers room certified by the one and only Tony Stark, don’t’cha think?” Tony looks over to Happy, his question clearly asking Happy to give the two some alone time.

           “Sure thing. I’ll meet you guys there.”

           Tony places a hand over Peter’s shoulders like he always does, except this time a flinch catches him off guard. He squeezes the tense shoulder and leads Peter down the hall and up the elevator. Tony opens the double doors to Peter’s room and ushers the kid in then closes the door.

           “Over there is your own work station- and before you ask, yes I was able to find the chemicals you told me about to make your web solution. Over here is your homework station, I know how big you are on school work and keeping up your grades. You proved that plenty while we prepped for Germany. Over-” Tony cuts himself off when he hears Peter suck in a sharp breath, followed by many more.

           He turns around and sees Peter sliding a had over the wooden homework desk, tears rolling over his cheeks. He lifts his head and makes eye contact with Tony for the first time. His eyes show nothing but pain, hurt, and _betrayal_.

           “Mr. Stark…” Peter’s voice sounds so weak and cracks with raw emotion. “Why don’t you ever call me?” With just that one question, the dam breaks and Peter hugs himself in a crying mess. Tony feels his throat go dry, all the gauges in his mind stop working at the sound of Peter’s agony. He looks around confused and opens his mouth to speak but only noises of stupefaction.

           “I- I just want y-you to ask me how I’m doing…Do you…do you care?” As if Peter’s words physically hurt him, he can hardly get a word out before more tears rain down his face.

           Tony can literally feel his heart ache within his chest. _“Do you care?”_ That really did a number on Tony’s psyche. No, he can’t have this kid walking around thinking about shit like this. Whatever happened to him, it get’s better starting _now._

           “Of course, I care about you,” Tony’s voice is strong and steady, the complete opposite of how he feels. But for Peter’s sake, he’ll be as brave as he needs to be. He steps closer to Peter and softens his voice, “I worry about you every day. In a way, I helped you along your hero journey and if you or May ever got hurt because of it…well, that’s on me and I wouldn’t be able to handle that.”

           Peter cries harder and flings himself to Tony, “I’m so s-sorry! I didn’t mean to accuse you. I’m just so tired and alone and empty…I can’t breathe by myself anymore. I’m so scared. I’m so scared all the time. Please don’t hate me, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Tony.”

           It’s when Peter uses his first name does Tony know that he isn’t apologizing for his previous outburst. He’s never called him by his first name. Something else is going on in his life that only he knows about. The way he said it, the pleading and begging like he was asking for help. And that makes Tony pull the child closer to him and sway him side to side.

           “It’s going to be okay now, Peter. Stop crying…please, stop,” The boy’s sorrow filled wails were starting to get to him. Starting to make his throat raw and chest ache unbelievably. “It’s okay, Peter. I’m here now, I’m not going to leave you.”

           Little did Tony know that those were the words Peter needed to hear.

           “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…” Peter slid down to the floor, Tony keeping his arms around the boy so he wouldn’t hurt himself on the way down.

           Tony rocks the boy back and forth until he falls asleep. He picks him up rather easily and notes that he needs to get some nutrition into the young spiderling when he wakes up. He places Peter onto the bed and tucks him in. He resists the impulse to kiss him on his forehead and settles with brushing his hair out of his face. Happy knocks on the door and Tony opens it. He tells him to be quiet and they bring the suitcase and backpack inside.

           “How is he?” Happy asked quietly, both men watching protectively over Peter, who suddenly looks even younger after crying. His puffy cheeks and relaxed face make him look so innocent.

           “Not good. Someone did something to him. And according to his aunt, it began last weekend. Ever since then he’s been on this downward spiral…” Tony trails off and takes a deep breath, “He thought I didn’t care about him, Happy. He wouldn’t stop crying. I was honestly…terrified.”

           Happy puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Tony. We _will_ , for the kid’s sake. Let’s let him get some rest.”

           “I’m going to stay here, you go on ahead,” Tony watches Happy leave before he settles himself on the couch on the opposite wall from the door. This way, he can keep an eye on Peter and he’s close enough to hear him in case he’s called for.

 

**4:15 a.m.**

           Peter jolts out of bed and clutches his stomach. That nightmares that plague his sleep always leave him queasy and frightened. He rushes to the restroom and pushes the door open. His stomach jumps into his chest and forces out any and all contents he’s had yesterday. Even with his stomach dry and empty, he heaves and sobs from the pain. Tears cloud his vision and he spits into the toilet bowl. He sits against the tub and rubs his throat. There’s no point in going back to sleep, he usually vomits in intervals until even his stomach is exhausted and he passes out. Another wave hits him and he is hugging the bowl again, chocking and gasping.

~

           At first, Tony thinks he’s dreaming when he hears the first heave, but upon the second one he remembers that he’s in Peter’s room and snaps his eyes open. He looks at Peter’s bed and sees his sheets thrown to one side and the bathroom door cracked open, light spilling through. He walks closer and hears heavy breathing. Slowly opening the door, he sees Peter with half-lidded eyes, his right arm and head resting against the top of the porcelain bowl. He sits on the rim of the bathtub and pulls Peter to rest against his legs.

           “Hey…” Tony gently shakes Peter’s shoulders to get his drowsy attention, “Kid, can you hear me? Come on, let’s get back to bed.”

           Peter groans and mumbles incoherently but fists his shirt into a ball around his stomach. Tony rubs his sweat, clumped hair and hums in understanding.

           “Not done, yet? Okay, okay. Take it easy. You want some water? Something cold? Talk to me kid.” Tony’s at a loss, he’s never had to deal with someone else in this situation, let alone a child. He’s only ever had to deal with himself and a nasty hangover, but this was something no one could have prepped him for.

           “H-hurts,” Peter hiccups and whines as he grabs his stomach.

           Before Tony can reply, Peter is over the toilet bowl emptying whatever seems to be left, and apparently that isn’t much because the kid starts to dry heave. Tony rubs a hand in circles over Peter’s tense back and talks him through it. Tony believes it’s over when Peter stands on shaking legs to splash water over his face. He spits a few more times and rinses his mouth before he slides onto the restroom floor. He’s crying again and Tony doesn’t know what to do or why he’s crying.

           “D-does your stomach still hurt? Um, tell me what to do, kiddo. I-I don’t,” Tony rubs the back of his neck and squats down to Peter. “Talk to me, Peter, what do you need? You wanna go back to sleep? I don’t know what to do, I’m not good at this kid.”

           “H-hurts.”

           “I know, I know,” Tony places an awkward hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezes before rubbing it soothingly.

           “M-make it stop, p-please. I can’t do it a-anym-ore,” Peter looks at Tony through tearful eyes and scoots closer to his mentor. He reaches his arms around Tony’s torso and buries his face in his shirt. Tony hesitantly rests his arm around Peter’s back and rubs him softly. He wishes he can take away the pain, to make it stop, but he doesn’t know what needs stopping. “Anymore” implies that he’s been going through something for a while, but could he mean he can’t throw up anymore? Peter’s too far gone to speak coherently, so he adjusts their positions and he picks up Peter bridal style. Peter wraps his arms around Tony’s neck and nuzzles into him. The feeling of the kid so close to him, accepting Tony’s complete and total protection, giving in and just trusting that he’s going to take care of Peter makes his heart swell. A feeling he’s only had when he realized how much he loved Pepper.

           Not so surprisingly, Peter’s partially asleep as Tony lays him down. He draws the blanket up to Peter’s chest and sits on the edge of the bed. He talks quietly about anything that comes to mind: how he first created his Iron Man suit, when he met Pepper and Happy, why he still keeps all of his impractical robotic friends, anything that’ll distract Peter’s heavy mind. When the boy falls asleep it’s nearly 6 o’clock and Tony drags himself to the small couch. He passes out as soon as he hits the cushions.


	5. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions can be things we also expose to ourselves- that's something both Tony and Happy realize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH! I'm so happy for the messages you guys leave me! Thank you thank you thank you so much for reading this story and taking the time to comment. I feel so guilty because I wanted to post this yesterday but I had auditions all day yesterday and some this morning so I was a little swamped. And I didn't want to post it at 2 a.m. either, so here it is! And I'm going to try posting the following chapter either tonight or tomorrow morning. Love you! xoxo

~~Confession~~

* * *

 

 

**Saturday**

           Peter blinks blearily and takes in his room for the first time. The bed probably has the softest mattress he’s ever slept on. He nuzzles the back of his head in the cloud-like pillows before sitting up to check out the rest of the room. Mr. Stark really has thought of everything; his own bathroom, a kitchen unit, a brick fireplace, a balcony. The square footage is probably bigger than his entire apartment! He doesn’t deserve this. He hears a snort and notices Mr. Stark for the first time on the couch. _He stayed here all night? That couldn’t have been comfortable._ He remembers bits and pieces of last night, but none of it seems to make sense.

           He slowly gets out of bed, taking an extra minute to make his head stop spinning, and goes to his backpack. He fishes out his cell phone and checks the grading portal, a morning routine he’s picked up pretty quickly. He squeezes the device and shuts his eyes. _That…that monster only raised his 66% to a 67%? But- but he lets Coach do whatever he wants with him. This isn’t fair, this-_

           “Peter, are you okay?” Mr. Stark cuts off his thoughts and he jumps back, dropping his phone in the process.

           “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…” Peter said.

           Peter’s breathing heavy and he tries to conceal his panic. He can tell Mr. Stark is worried, and that somehow makes him feel better. Maybe he truly does care. He watches the billionaire pick up his cracked phone and look at the screen intently. Peter cringes as he sees Mr. Stark’s eyebrows raise then lower in a crease.

           “A ‘D’ isn’t so bad. I mean, at least it’s almost a ‘C’, right? I’m sure you’re trying. It’s nothing to get worked up about, Peter,” Tony said with a soft smile.

           Peter’s surprised there wasn’t a joke about Spider-Man failing P.E. somewhere in there. At the same time, Mr. Stark doesn’t understand what he’s going through, what “trying” consists off. _Mr. Stark is Iron Man, an_ Avenger _, he can protect you…he can save you like he did with those Iron Bots all those years ago. Tell him. Let Mr. Stark take care of you._

           “Um, M-Mr. Stark…can- can I tell you something?” Peter sits himself cross-legged on the carpet and twiddles his fingers. There’s a voice in the back of his head telling him he shouldn’t even try to tell his mentor, it’s been going on for a week and he hasn’t shown any signs of caring then so why would he now? _You’re pathetic for even thinking there’s a slim chance._

           Tony can feel the mood change and knows Peter is about to say something important. He sits a couple feet away from Peter, as to not crowd him and puts the phone down to give Peter all his attention.

           “You can tell me anything that’s on your mind, kiddo.”

           Peter loves it when Tony calls him that, it serves as a small form of affection that he’s learned is Tony-speak for something meaningful. It smothers the voice in his head and Peter nods more to himself than to Tony, letting out a shaky breath, “I don’t really know where to start…I-I guess the beginning?” Peter asked and receives a nod from Tony. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his messy hair.

           “My…my P.E. c-coach…in his classroom he, um, he…I can’t,” Peter inhales sharply and lets a sob out. “I’m so sorry, Tony.”

           There it was again, Tony’s first name. It’s definitely a cry for help, no doubt in Tony’s mind about that now. However, with the way Peter’s sentence was going made him sweat. His heart rate increased and he grew scared for what he was about to hear. A voice keeps telling him things he doesn’t want to believe, things he _can’t_ believe. Yet, the flinching, the drawn back behavior, the lack of eye contact, his soft, scared, and hesitant voice screams to Tony that Peter went through something traumatic. He holds his breath and clenches his fists. He’s only a child.

           “Don’t say that,” Tony can’t control the slight wobble in his voice. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. When you’re ready, you can tell me as much as you’re comfortable with. If talking about it is too hard, you can even right it down for me and I’ll burn it after if that makes you feel better. And if you still don’t feel better, I’ll blow the ashes up with a repulsor blast and a few shoulder missiles…You’re safe here, Peter. You’re with me, and Iron Man has you covered,” Tony winks and turns serious, “Just… _please_ don’t apologize for something out of your control, son.”

           Peter’s heart feels like someone squeezed it, making it explode warmth all through his chest. Sending rivulets of relief through his veins. A coolness washes over him and dissipates the swirling in his stomach. No one has ever called him that since Uncle Ben died. And now Mr. Stark was looking him dead in the eyes giving him that same caring and loving look Ben gave him. The world suddenly stands still, the outside noises growing faint until they die out completely. He can’t move from Mr. Stark’s eyes, he can only hear the small puffs of air from his nose and the thudding in his ears. His throat is dry and sore. His lower back aches. His stomach pinches at him, begging him to eat something. His heart opens, the wall crumbles, the cold melts, his muscles stop choking him. It’s only him and Mr. Stark. Nothing can hurt him here. _He cares._

           “Coach Wilson rapes me everyday after school.”

           The words roll off his tongue on their own. Peter’s breathing catches before speeding up, his eyes flood with hot water, the outside noises slowly fill his ears. It all feels like he’s being brought back to reality, lifted from being underwater for so long. Like he’s waking up for the first time since last weekend, and Mr. Stark is here. Mr. Stark is here this time. He’s woken Peter from his nightmare to tell him it’s going to be okay.

           "If I don’t let him, he-he’ll tell everyone I’m Spider-Man. He’ll endanger innocent people…I-I can’t let that happen,” The emotions Peter’s blocked suddenly find their way back to him and he lets the rain fall.

           Tony watches Peter fall apart in front of him. He can’t move as the words sink in. Someone, no- Peter’s _teacher_ has been tormenting him. An entire week. Where was he when the boy needed him? Half-way across the world on some fucking business trip drinking champagne and sitting poolside, while Peter probably cried himself to sleep every night. Tony get’s up and walks over to Peter to hold him and tell him that it’s going to get better. While rubbing Peter’s trembling arm up and down, the sleeve rolls up slightly in the process. Tony sees several old and new cuts on Peter’s wrist but chooses not to say anything. One confession was enough, nevertheless he holds Peter tighter. He feels like someone’s stabbed him right through the heart. His protegee…his son has been alone for far too long.

           “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Tony asked, trying to understand why Peter would choose to fight this alone.

           He’s gasping, holding on for dear life as if letting go would throw him back into the whirlwind he’s become so familiar with, “I-I guess I n-never got y-your number,” Peter laughs weakly, which turns into more cries as he fists Tony’s shirt.

           That stung. Oh, that burned right through Tony in the worst possible way. He swallows thickly and squeezes Peter harder, closing the distance between them.

           “Happy-”

           “Never answers,” Peter interrupted.

           Now he’s seething, not because he himself has been neglecting Peter, but Happy as well. He’s entrusted Happy to keep an eye on Peter, to make sure he doesn’t end up hurt or saving the day alone like he had with the Vulture. However, at the end of the day there isn’t anyone else to blame but himself. Tony’s encouraged a lifestyle in Peter that will put both his last remaining family member, and everyone he cares about at school in danger. And Peter apparently thought trading his body for his loved ones was the best thing he could do. Peter believed he had unquestionably no one to turn to. Tony waits for Peter to stop crying before pulling away to look into his pink-rimmed brown eyes. There’s so much pain behind those puppy dog orbs, so much hurt and self loathing. How can anyone look at this kid and take away his childhood in such a heinous crime?

           After several more minutes, maybe even hours, of Tony convincing Peter that it wasn’t his fault he tells Peter to take a warm shower. Tony lays out an outfit on Peter’s bed and heads to the medical room on Peter’s floor. He collects some gauze, a bottle of cleaning solvent, and a topical ointment for Peter’s arms. It’s hard to tell if most of the cuts are relatively new or how long they’ll last due to Peter’s enhanced healing capabilities, but he’ll take proper care of him no matter what. He makes it back before Peter is out of the shower, so he decides to put the rest of the kid’s clothes away in the dresser and can’t help smiling at all his science and math related t-shirts. He finds a black shirt with a blue arc reactor in the center of the chest and feels a tingle in his stomach. _The kid really lov…looks up to me_ , Tony thought. He folds the shirt and continues to put his clothes away. He’s just about finished when Peter walks out with a towel around his hips. _After he get’s dressed_ , Tony thinks, _I’m making a hardy breakfast_. _I mean, the kids ribs are showing for crying out loud!_ He stores the last of the clothes away and hears Peter dressing behind him. He situates Peter’s luggage in the closet and walks over to Peter, who’s now dressed in a white t-shirt with a Pythagorean theorem joke on it and black gym shorts. He gently asks Peter to sit on the edge of the bed and tells him to hold out his wrists. Peter looks scared and makes a move to hide them.

           “I know, Peter, you don’t have to explain…I know,” Tony said, pulling Peter’s arms out of hiding.

           He sprays the antiseptic on the cuts, eliciting a sharp hiss and slight squirming. Tony says his apologies and goes to clean the other forearm. He applies the topical ointment with several cotton swabs before wrapping both arms up to the elbow.

           “Were those the only areas?” Tony asked, hoping the answer is yes.

           “Yes…Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter said quietly.

           “Tony. Call me Tony,” He doesn’t give Peter a chance to reply before he’s pulling the kid forward and towards the bedroom door. “You like Pancakes? I’ll have Happy make some.”

           “A-are they…are they like wheat-cakes?” Peter’s biting on his index finger from nerves and looks to Tony timidly. Tony pulls his finger away from his mouth making Peter apologize.

           Tony chuckles at how well May has brought Peter up, how she’s wanted nothing but the best and healthiest for her nephew, “Umm…sure? They’re good, that’s all you need to know.”

**Sunday**

           “Happy, can I have a word with you?” Tony asked. Happy has just gotten back with Peter’s lunch and nods his head. “Be right back, kiddo,” Tony tells Peter with a smile.

           Peter gives a small smile back and picks at his food uninterested. Tony leads Happy into another room and shuts the door, shying from practically slamming it. The billionaire groans and tries to settle his boiling rage, he needs to remember that he’s as much to blame for Peter’s circumstance just as Happy is.

           “Why the _fuck_ would you yell at the kid?” The fury pours out of Tony’s mouth before he can help himself, “He tried calling you for help and you hung up on him- no wait, you didn’t _only_ hang up on him, you told him off too.”

           Happy looks taken back and holds up his hands in a gesture for Tony to calm down, “What are you talking about?”

           “Last week!” Tony catches himself and lowers his voice, not wanting Peter to know their talking about him. He lets out a heavy exhale from his nose and resumes, “Peter told me that after the first time, he tried to tell you but you wouldn’t listen. You told him not to call anymore about “unimportant” things. Unimportant. _Really?_ You’re going to tell that to a 15-year-old? They think _everything_ is fucking important, Happy! If it’s finding five bucks on the street or carrying an old ladies groceries to her car, they think it’s important. So, when you told him- when you said that what he was going to tell you wasn’t important…you crushed him,” Tony said between clenched teeth.

           Happy does recall Peter’s call last week, he was in the middle of sitting in for Tony at a meeting. Peter called and got him some obviously annoyed faces shot his way. He was already having a lousy day, too, and he ended up taking it out on Peter. He remembers the way Peter’s voice shook, the way his breathe caught in his throat while Happy told him to stop calling, but he was too angry to care. And after a few days of not hearing from the boy, he kind of enjoyed the silence and not the constant ringing of his phone or the hundreds of texts and voicemails he had to sort through. He pales thinking how it all began around that one phone call, how maybe if he just listened to Peter’s ramblings then maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess.

           With a tight throat, Happy asks, “What do you mean by the ‘first time’?”

           Tony stills, not knowing if he should tell Happy or ask Peter to do it himself. However, he can’t bear the sight of seeing Peter look so devastated and ashamed for something he has unquestionably no-fault in. With that in mind, he relents, “Peter’s P.E. coach started…he molested him that day.”

           Saying it out loud made it real and left a gross taste in his mouth. Saying it made his heart speed up, made his skin heat and crawl, but then again it made his thoughts fill with ways to deal with the monster who’s wronged his kid.

           “What?” Happy is flabbergasted, silent and fearful.

           “You heard me,” Tony can’t say it again. “It only got worse…and rapidly. Now before you do it, I don’t need you spluttering apologies at me, okay? Your job was to watch out for him, _listen to him_ and you failed that. Don’t look so broken, it was my fault too, but it’s a fault that shouldn’t have ever happened. You are going to show that kid how much he means to you. Every. Single. Day.” Tony’s voice cracks, the passion behind his words evident. “I don’t want him questioning whether I, or you, care about him. That won’t happen. He’ll know the answer without even thinking about it. You owe him that much. Peter doesn’t deserve this. He won’t be afraid to call, he won’t be a-afraid to ask for help, Happy. He won’t be afraid…” Tony stops himself, if he goes any further he’ll break and he can’t do that right now. Not when the kid is in the other room trying to fight his own demons and expecting Tony to be his anchor.

           Tony clears his throat and looks at Happy with a stern look, “Can you do me a favor? Sure, you can, it’s the least you can do. I need you to find a ‘Coach Whiz Wilson’ for me, as of yesterday. Where he lives, where he hangs out, what time he wakes up, what time he goes to bed- just find him!” Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and balls his fist. He needs to calm down, Peter would think Tony’s anger is directed at him in his vulnerable state.

           “Is he the guy that…?” Happy quietly asked, as if talking about it would bring about a curse.

           All Tony does is nod and opens the door before exiting, he won’t be able to keep it together if he continues to talk about it. He walks back to the kitchen and sees that Peter has taken at least three bites of his sandwich unprompted, a clear sign that he’s trying. Tony needs to blink several times to get the tears out of his eyes.

           “Good job, kiddo. Is it good?” Tony thought after talking with Happy, faking happiness for the boy would be hard, but it isn’t. When he sees Peter, he can’t help but feel euphoric. He feels at home.

           Peter looks to be pondering the correct response, smacking his lips before nodding his head tentatively, but not making a move to eat more.

           “Awesome! D’you mind if I have a bite?” Peter instantly hands him the sandwich and watches Tony take a bite. Tony places the sandwich down and lets out a satisfied grunt. It’s on the overdramatic side for sure, but it gets a small giggle out of Peter which makes the act all the more worth while.

           “You didn’t tell me it was _that_ good!” Tony goes for another bite when Peter stops him and pulls the sandwich away. “Oh, so now you don’t wanna share? I see how it is.”

           Peter smiles brightly, showing his teeth for the first time, “Your bites are, like, ginormous! There won’t be any left if you take another bite.”

           That’s the first time Peter’s sounded like, well, _Peter_ since he’s gotten here. Tony feigns hurt and lets Peter eat in peace. When he was younger, his nanny used to trick him into eating his food by making it seem like it was the tastiest thing she’s ever had. It worked every time.

           Peter takes four more small bites and sets the sandwich down. There’s still a third left, but Tony won’t push him, especially because it’s more than Peter’s eaten compared to yesterday. Tony feels guilt swirl in his stomach for what he’s about to put Peter through, but knows this can’t be avoided. Calling Aunt May. At the mere mention of her name, Peter drops his smile and shakes his head frantically. It’s understandable, Peter still wants to protect her and everyone else, however Tony reassures him that the danger is no longer a threat. It’ll be taken care of. Of course, Peter doesn’t know what Tony is talking about but settles for the answer regardless. Peter makes Tony talk on the phone first, makes him explain to his Aunt the things Peter can’t say. Aunt May was in hysterics and wanted to inform the police and call the school. Tony wanted to make sure Peter’s secret identity remains under wraps, especially if the kid fought so hard in doing so himself, and told May he (as Iron Man) will be taking care of it. He promises her that Peter’s rapist will never have freedom again. Her and Peter end up having a four-hour long phone conversation of them mostly crying and reassuring each other they were both fine.

           Happy, after finding where Whiz Wilson will be this evening, witnessed the saddening display and decided to cancel all his plans for the week to spend as much time as he can into making Peter his once bubbly, talkative, curious self again. Today, he’s taking Peter bowling, which works out perfect for Tony, because he has someone he needs to take care of.

~

           He watches Happy call for Peter and takes him to the car. Peter seems excited about hanging out with Happy and even smiles a little. Good, Tony thought, they shouldn’t be back until later tonight. He suits up and flies to Peter’s school where, located by F.R.I.D.A.Y., Peter’s coach is organizing files in his classroom. The parking lot is mostly empty, only the teacher’s cars still occupy the space. He waits until he sees Wilson get into his red car and follows the vehicle at a distance until he sees his opportunity to turn the car into another direction. He fires a small blast, not big enough to cause street damage but enough to frighten the driver and make him swerve down an empty road. The car ends up in a vacant lot with only one exit. The rest is blocked off with a chain link fence, the view of what’s about to happen is obscured by windowless buildings. He lands on top of the car, denting it, and calls for Wilson to step out of the vehicle. The pedophile slowly exits the car with both hands raised in surrender. He turns around and sees Iron Man pointing a repulsor at him.

           “Iron Man? What, um, what seems to be the problem?” He lowers his arms in relief.

           “Don’t you dare play that. You know exactly what you’ve done! He’s a 15-year-old boy – a fucking _child_ , do you have any guilt for what you’ve done to him? You’re a monster, a disgusting waste. You- you stole something pure, something so naïve. And you have the _nerve_ to ask what the problem is? How can you walk around like you didn’t just destroy a child’s innocence!?” Tony is seething and jumps down from the car, his suit leaving two craters in the asphalt. He stomps towards Wilson and throws a fist to his stomach. Wilson curls inward grunting upon impact while the sound of wood splintering fills the still air. Tony steps out of his suit, his face an expression of pure abhorrence and wrath. While Wilson is still bent over from the punch, Tony lands a kick in his face, throwing Wilson onto his back. From his black suit pocket, he pulls out a gun and aims it at the man who now lays on the ground clutching his stomach. Tony probably fractured several bones, but why should he care? This criminal deserves what’s coming to him.

           “People like you make me sick. Ha! _People?_ You don’t even deserve the title of a human being!” Tony kicks his stomach, watching Wilson spittle blood. “You’re nothing but a monster who took advantage of a child. Tell me, you gotta family, any kids of your own?” Tony cocks the gun and points it towards Wilson’s head.

           “Please, please don’t kill me!” Wilson tries to backup, but his ribs twist and halt his movements.

           “Answer. The. Fucking. Question!” Tony steps closer pulling the Wilson’s collar up and presses the gun to the man’s head. His voice echoes into the sky of the setting sun. His breath is quick and hot, his fingers are tense as they hold the gun, his eyes see nothing but red.

           “No! No! I don’t have any!” Wilson is crying, weeping.

           “Then you couldn’t possibly know how it feels to have your child begging you to make the pain go away. To listen to him scream in his sleep and wake up crying uncontrollably. You don’t know how it feels to know that he believes harming himself is the only way to make the agony inside stop. You couldn’t possibly know how it feels to have your child confess to you that their _once trusted_ teacher has _raped_ them over, and over, and fucking over again! You have no idea how badly I want to end your life in the most painful way possible! I hate you! I hate you so fucking much for what you did to him,” Tears leak out of Tony’s eyes as all the rage, all the hurt, and all the love he has for Peter force their way out of him. “You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as my son.”

_“Mr. Stark don’t!” Peter grabs Tony’s arm and pulls it back._

_Tony drops the shoe and looks to Peter._

_“I thought you just said that you hate spiders? Correction: you’re absolutely terrified of them,” Tony said, crossing his arms and keeping an eye on the small spider but also speaking to Peter directly._

_“I-I do…but…that doesn’t mean you should kill it,” Peter’s voice grows soft and quiet, he wrings his hands together and bites his lip. Tony can clearly see how anxious the arachnid is making Peter, yet he still doesn’t want it permanently gone. Tony sighs and ruffles the kid’s hair. He thought Peter could never be a child, an innocent child, ever again after what had happened to him, but the big, brown, pleading eyes prove him otherwise. Peter Parker is against cruelty, he believes in justice 100% but not killing. Even if they’re the baddest baddie out there. He even tried to save the Vulture from exploding after the man nearly killed him._

_“Alright, Peter. Go find me a jar and we’ll take him outside, okay?” Tony suggested._

_“Can it be a couple blocks away?” Peter asked nervously, biting his finger._

_“Sure, kid,” Tony pulls Peter’s hand away from his teeth and squeezes gently._

           Tony drops Wilson to the ground and steps back. As much as he wants to, as capable as he is, he can’t do this to Peter. He puts the gun away and steps back into his suit.

           “F.R.I.D.A.Y., inform S.H.I.E.L.D. about the nature of their newest prisoner.”

           “Right away, Sir.”

           Tony roughly grabs Wilson around the waist, disregarding the painful grunt he hears, and takes off to the closest S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.


	6. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy takes the first step in making things up to Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this a little late, but I did make a promise that I would be posting a second chapter today. So, better late than never. I'm not sure if I want to write one more chapter and close the story up. Thoughts?

~~Smile~~

* * *

 

 

 

         Tony adjusts his grip, eliciting a sharp hiss from the filth in his arms. He hardens his armored hold out of spite and makes it a bumpy ride.

Meanwhile…

         “When was the last time you’ve been bowling?” Happy asked as they pulled up to the bowling alley. He turns off the car and takes out the keys from the ignition, waiting for Peter to reply. After the stretch of silence, he looks to the boy sitting in the passenger seat, wringing his fingers nervously, thus prompting Peter to speak.

         “I’ve actually never…been bowling before...My parents never really…um, Uncle Ben wanted to take me, but- um yeah. May is so busy and stuff. Is- is it hard? Are there going to be a lot of people? Of course, there’s going to be people, it’s a thing, right? Like…a family place?” Peter wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts and looks to Happy while chewing his lip. “I-I get a little flustered with people watching me,” Peter lets out an edgy laugh and clears his throat.

         Happy gives Peter a small smile, “Never huh? Well lucky for you that I rented out the entire place,” He lets out a laugh when the Peter raises his eyebrows and drops his jaw. “Come on, Pete.”

         He walks through the automatic doors with Peter close behind and greets his friend Jason, the owner of the building, and gives him a firm handshake. Jason nods to Peter, who in return smiles timidly and says a small “hello”.

         Happy guides Peter with a hand on his back over to the shoe rentals and selects the sizes. He looks over to Peter, who’s staring wide-eyed at the colorful disco lights and loud music. He also notices that Peter is standing closer than usual, rubbing a hand over his opposite arm. He can’t help in wondering if the mixture of the loud noise, bright lights, and large building is making the kid uneasy...Unless, from what he remembers in his college psychology class, people who’ve been under recent traumatic events can get anxious or stressed in unfamiliar places. He lays a hand on the middle of Peter’s back nonetheless, and pats him encouragingly.

         “Which one do you wanna use?” Happy asked after getting their shoes.

         Peter looks around, really studying each alley despite them all being the same. He picks the one at the far end next to the wall and gives Happy a sheepish smile while pointing in its far-off direction. Happy sets up the game while Peter ties on his shoes and chooses a ball.

         “You wanna go first?” Happy asked, gesturing to the wooden runway.

         “Um, o-okay…Can you help me?” Peter asked hesitantly.

         “Sure thing, kid.”

         Happy picks up his bowling ball and shows Peter the proper hand positioning and how he should release it. He watches Peter from the circular couch and waits for him to roll the ball. He ends up rolling it straight into the gutter, which doesn’t surprise Happy but makes Peter tilt his head in confusion.

         “Was it supposed to do that?” Peter asked after the T.V. screen overhead showed his mistake.

         In that exact moment, a waitress comes over with glasses of water and states she’ll be available upon call should they request anything. She looks up to the T.V. screen and smiles, “Aw, better luck next go-around, hun.” Peter blushes pink, and rubs his neck awkwardly as the waitress walks away.

         In this moment, watching how Peter interacts with strangers, how he stays close to Happy in the new environment, the way he speaks as if asking for approval- it all triggers him. He’s been an absolute jerk to Peter, who’s tried everything he can to make Happy like him. On one occasion, he’s overheard Peter talking to Tony about everyone calling him names in school and how a certain Flash is always there making him look like an idiot. Happy didn’t think anything of it, he just shook it off and thought Peter would eventually graduate and move on. But having this one-on-one time with him has finally made him realize that Peter takes all things to heart. Because all Peter wants to do is help, and if he can’t help, then he’ll change and be better so he _can_ help. It’s as if the poor kid doesn’t do anything for himself. Happy looks down at his shaking hands and balls them into fists, how could he be so blind?

         “Um…H-Happy? I-it says that my ball fell in the ‘gutter’, should I go again maybe?” Peter is standing in front of him, his brown eyes large and curious.

         Happy shakes himself out of his thoughts and tries to smile at the strong boy, “Oh, um let me see…” He looks up to the screen and confirms that Peter didn’t hit any pins. The teen looks upset, which makes Happy come up with an idea. In a real game Peter would have to wait before he can go again, but Happy can allow a few moments of rule-breaking fun.

         “Sure, you can! Let me show you an easier way and we’ll see which one you like better,” Happy shows him how to roll the ball with two hands and lets Peter try.

         Peter grunts and sits on his butt as the ball instantly goes in the gutter, “I’m just not good at it.”

         Happy can hear a slight edge in Peter’s voice. He sounds, not only disappointed in himself, but for disappointing Happy, as well. If he continues to beat himself up while his mind is already in such a sensitive state, he can end up in a breakdown; he’s witnessed Tony go through the same thing when he came back from Afghanistan. Although Tony said he was fine not making weapons anymore, he couldn’t hide how badly he felt for disappointing so many people.

         “Hey, hey, hey don’t talk like that,” Happy squats beside Peter and looks him in the eyes. “It takes practice and before you know it you’ll be hitting all the pins like it was your job. How about this, we ask to put the bumpers up and you can go ham on all those pins, sound fun?”

         “Did…did you just say, ‘go ham’?” Peter lets out a small laugh, warming its way right to Happy’s heart.

         “Ha ha real funny. I’ll go find Jason and set up the bumpers, in the meantime I want you to look at the menu and pick out something to eat. No buts, you need to eat,” Happy points over to the table where the menus and call button is waiting and leaves to find Jason.

         He comes back with Jason to find that Peter’s ordered a banana split, half of it already gone and a small, unsure smile on his face. Happy ruffles his hair and chuckles, “Just don’t tell Tony I let you have ice cream for dinner.”

~

         Tony sips on a martini and stares out the large windows. He knows that not killing the man would mean so much to Peter, but he can’t shake the feeling of how that man is still breathing out there. His thoughts are cut off when he hears footsteps and chatty voices. He turns and sees Peter, a real smile spread wide on his face, and now he understands why he can’t kill Wilson. Peter’s smile has somehow become part of his life mission. Never does he want to see Peter break down, to see him starving, to look at his wrists and see the way Peter hates himself. Peter is already way better than Tony could ever be and it’s a shame Peter doesn’t see it. If Tony could, he would make Peter hate him so he wouldn’t look up to him, he would make him look up to a real hero like Captain Spangles. Tony sets his drink down and let’s today’s trifles slip away. He meets up with the returning company and brings Peter into a half hug and offers Happy a knowing smirk.

         “How was it? Did you kick Happy’s ass or what? He cried when you beat him, didn’t he? Come on, don’t spare the details,” Tony rambled, leading Peter to the kitchen. Not that Tony can cook, he’s tried that and nearly burned down the place. He ordered three pizzas because he knows Happy is too lenient and probably let the boy have candy for dinner.

         Peter gives Happy a look before amending Tony, “Actually, I’m not a very good bowler...um, yet. We, uh, Happy made them put up the bumpers.”

         Tony laughs and sets up a plate with three slices for Peter and hands it to him, “Really now? Spider-Man can’t bowl? Let me guess, you still bowl with two hands. Or do you squat and just push the ball?”

         “Only in the beginning…” Peter shoves a bite in his mouth and quickly forgets his embarrassment as the cheesy pizza melts on his taste buds.

         Tony laughs once more and helps himself to the pizza before sitting in front of Peter and next to Happy. _Yeah_ , Tony thinks to himself, _his smile is worth the world._


	7. An URGENT Message From The Author! (RESOLVED)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resolved as of August 6th, 2017.

For those who voted know what this means. My "homecoming" babes.

 **When**   **I become an actress, I'll have a little party and we can watch spiderman moves together :') lol please though. that'd be awesome)**. 

* * *

**UPDATE: (Aug 11, 2017)**

I won the voting!!! I can't believe it. But I won! Thank you guys so much. I'm so very overwhelmed and grateful for all of your love and support. I won't let you guys down by screwing this opportunity up. When I become a well known actress, I promised to host a little movie night for us - so, let's all hope that happens. Don't be a stranger and let's make this journey together. I love you all so much. I will **_never_** forget what you guys have done for me.

 

  **UPDATE: (AUG 29, 2017)**

I'm not sure how many of you will see this, but I'm going to do it both here and on my newest story "Parasite". 

I've vlogged while I was in New York and I'm posting it on my Youtube channel. 

Comment if you'd like to see them and I'll give you a link :)

I want to thank you guys, so I'll be making a video thanking everyone. I'd love for you to see it. I can't go a day without thinking about what you guys have done for me. I'm truly so happy. And I love you all.

 

I was thinking of a name we can all agree on so that I don't have to keep referring to you guys as "Homecoming" haha. 

How about Jeanie? 

It's like Genie but with my name instead. I just thought that this fit because you guys made my wish come true. Love you.

 

****For those who asked about my YouTube channel <3 [My YouTube Channel](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCM0wOmZ1ECPnTYt57Kdc0Bg)


	8. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is triggered by a nightmare and has to start back from square one. At least, he has people to catch him this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. I have NO WORDS for the love, the kindness, the support, and the effort to vote for me that you displayed towards me. I'm not going to lie, but I have never felt so happy in all my life. I wanted to cry all day because you all made me so happy (I actually ended up crying haha). I'm so truly honored and humbled by this experience. I want to do so much for you guys and I just don't know what to do! I love love love love lovveee you guys for showing me such a kindness, because you didn't have to. Simply put, you could have ignored my message and waited for the next chapter, so I am honestly shocked.  
> Thank's to you guys, I went from 47 to 69 in just a few hours. You guys bummped me up to #1! (I'm freaking crying!) I will keep you all posted about the progress. The last day is Aug 6 until we will know who "wins". I want to say so much more but let's be honest, y'all came here for the story, so I'll end it here.
> 
> Thank you and a thousand kisses.  
> xoxo

~~Calm Before the Storm~~

* * *

 

 

 

Monday

           He doesn’t know how it got to this point. He’s been feeling so much better with the constant attention from his mentor and Happy. It could be the result of an unpleasant nightmare he had last night. A shiver runs up his spine as he recalls his dream’s events. Coach Wilson was in his bedroom back in his Queens apartment, he had Peter underneath him. Peter couldn’t move as the feeling of despair consumes his soul and immobilizes him completely. He’s given up. Wilson has won, just like how he always wins. It doesn’t matter that Peter begged him to not take him in his own bedroom, on his own bed. But monsters don’t have hearts. They don’t see the world for what is but for what they can kill, steal, and destroy. And that’s exactly what happened in Peter’s nightmare once, then twice, then over, and over, and over, and over again. His mind refusing to wake him up as he struggles to breathe in his sleep, sweat seeping into his mattress and sheets. When morning came and relief made its self known, Peter awoke with a cloudy haze around him. He looked to his right, expecting to find Tony on the couch but seeing it cold and empty.

           So, now he sits up against his feathery-soft pillows and hugs his knees close. He supposes that he’s a fool for believing that he would be over the pain by now. Even while spending the entire day with Tony and Happy, there was a piece of him that knew it was too good to be true. Peter can feel his chest beginning to constrict, tighten painfully around his heart and squeezing it, choking him in it’s cold grasp. He crawls out of bed and makes his way to the closet where Tony stored his things. Rushing in a light-headed panic, he rummages through his backpack, praying that the tight feeling doesn’t strangle him. A smile of pure relief creeps onto his face, a breathy laugh fills the still air as he holds up his pencil sharpener. Without giving it a second thought, he drops it to the floor and starts stomping on the plastic apparatus. Pieces of plastic shards lodge into the sole of Peter’s foot, but he’s too far gone to notice the throbbing wounds. He snatches the small blade, his lifeline, and brushes off the last fragments of plastic.

           He stills with the blade between his forefinger and thumb, pressed against his inner left forearm. He can’t move as guilt crushes him back to a more reasonable mindset. Tony would be surely disappointed in him. Yeah, the cuts will heal by tomorrow afternoon, but that doesn’t make it healthy. It takes all his will power to crane his hand away from his arm and he lets out a shaky breath. He isn’t out of the woods yet, he needs to find someone and not leave their side until the panic passes, until he can breathe evenly again. He rushes out the door, the plastic pieces finally making themselves known as he limps down the hall and to the elevator. He doesn’t know what time it is, but if the sun’s up, Tony should be in his workshop or the kitchen fixing coffee from pulling an all-nighter. He nearly freaks out when the elevator pauses before opening to the sublevel workshop, thinking he would end up being stuck with himself and a blade. He lets out a distressed whimper when Tony is no where in the lab. His breath is coming out in huffs and he turns back for the elevator to check the kitchen.

           He wants to scream when Tony isn’t in the kitchen but settles for sliding down the wall. As if his hand has a mind of its own, it shakily comes up and lowers onto Peter’s left wrist. He’s about to make the first cut of many when he hears a curse and hands grabbing both his wrists painfully. The blade drops and clatters on the floor, echoing in the stretching silence. Peter’s breathing hard and he’s surprised to see Happy when he looks up.

           “Peter, what’s going on?” Happy asked, fear evident in his voice.

           Peter doesn’t blame him, he probably looks like a mess right now and he was about to go ballistic on himself only seconds ago. But that pushing feeling against his ribs and the pinching in his chest hasn’t subsided even a little and he fights against Happy’s hold on him.

           “Peter! Peter, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself!”

           “I know!” Peter yelled and both struggling males fall instantly quiet. Peter’s huffing out of his nose, his face is wet but he doesn’t remember crying.

           “Don’t you _ever_ pull this shit again, you hear me?” Happy is angry, which is something Peter hasn’t anticipated. “This,” He drops one of Peter’s wrists and picks up the blade from the kitchen tiles, “This is _not_ allowed. It won’t make your life any better, it’ll only make you feel worse about yourself.”

           “B-but I can’t breathe!” Peter’s hysterical, he knows that, but he can’t help it.

           “Yes, you can. You’re breathing fine right now,” Happy states calmly, the polar opposite of Peter. Happy sets both of Peter’s hands on the boy’s chest and lets him feel the rise and fall.

           “It’s too tight, though. It’s squeezy.”

           “What’s squeezy?” Peter’s glad that Happy doesn’t comment on how childish Peter sounds at the moment and tries to communicate his discomfort.

           “My chest. I-it’s crushing m-me and it hurts. It’s hurting me. Happy, it hurts.”

           “Shh, shh, shh. Hey, calm breaths, slow it down…That’s it. Just take it easy. Your chest isn’t crushing you- no, it isn’t,” Happy stops Peter’s interjection and continues, “You have your hands on your chest right now. The only thing it’s doing is moving up and down, expanding and retracting, filling with air and pushing air out. Your chest wasn’t designed to crush, Peter. It won’t do that. What won’t it do?”

           “It won’t crush me,” Peter responds. He feels faint and slumps more against the kitchen wall. He feels better, the after effects of tingling and numbness taking over his tired body.

           “Let me take those things out of your foot now,” Happy leaves and Peter continues to press his hands against his chest, mentally reiterating the fact that his chest won’t crush him. He’s also forgotten about his foot and the reminder brings with it a twinge of dull pain.

           Happy comes back with tweezers and other supplies Peter knows is going to burn, just like when Tony cleaned his cuts. Happy’s gentle and takes his time, stopping whenever Peter’s breath catches and continuing when Peter gives the confirmatory nod. It’s another ten minutes before Peter’s foot is cleaned and bandaged. The two males are silent and Peter limps over to a kitchen stool while Happy washes his hands and discards of the pieces. Peter opens his mouth to say, ‘thank you’ but when Happy turns around, he changes his sentence.

           “For someone who’s name is ‘Happy’…you don’t look so happy. Are…are you okay?” Peter asked quietly, hoping the discontented expression isn’t towards Peter.

           “You’re asking _me_ if I’m okay? No, Peter, I’m not. Because I’ve been an ass- a jerk,” He amended upon request from Tony that he doesn’t curse in front of Peter. “I’ve been no help to you over the last few months, even during the time in Germany I treated you more like a burden than a person. I’m not okay because I hung up on you when you called me, when you didn’t know what to do you called me about Wilson and I shut you down. No, Peter, I’m not okay. I’m _especially_ not okay because the person who was just having a panic attack and on the verge of hurting them self is asking if _I’m_ the one that’s okay. Peter, why don’t you ever do things for yourself? How can you always look out for others while you suffer the consequences?” In no way was Happy yelling, but his frustrations weaved in and out of his rant and fell right in front of Peter.

           “I-I’m sorry, Happy.”

           “No, Peter,” Happy makes his way around the counter and grabs both of Peter’s shoulders. “ _I’m_ sorry. I never actually said that to you, and you deserve it a thousand times over. I know there isn’t anything I can do to change the past, but please let me help you in the future. Don’t let the world crush you, anymore. Sometimes, it’s okay to be selfish.”

           Peter bites his lip and blinks back his tears. He wants to make Happy not feel so bad and he’s sure crying won’t help. Nevertheless, Happy surrounds Peter is a strong hug and Peter can’t help the few tears that do come out.

           “Seriously kid, tell me anything you want to do today and we’ll go do it.”

           Peter is released from the hug and quickly dries his eyes, “Um, w-where’s Mr. Stark?”

           “After you fell asleep he stayed up all night working on your suit. He’s back in his room sleeping- but don’t feel bad, he wanted to work to get his mind off things. Now what do you want to do?”

~2:27 p.m.~

           Tony groans as light fills his room and burns his eyes.

           “F.R.I.D.A.Y. I thought I told you to shut the blinds until noon,” Tony would never own up to the fact that he just whined like a child.

           “It’s nearly half passed two in the after noon, Sir. Shall I return the blinds to-”

           “It’s almost three?! Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” Tony slowly gets out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom. He ignores F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s excuse and takes quick shower to wake him up. He hates leaving Peter to his own devices in the morning, it always seems as if Peter is searching for Tony anyways, so he rather be there for him when he calls. He dresses in a simple pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, his arc reactor glowing beneath the cotton.

           The kitchen is quiet, the stove is cold, and there aren’t any dishes in the dishwasher. Either Peter is still miraculously asleep, or he hasn’t eaten yet. However, Happy should be aware of the vary fact that Peter should be eating all three meals, plus snacks, each and everyday to bring his weight back up.

           “F.R.I.D.A.Y., wake Peter up and tell him to get ready for going out wi-”

           “Sir, there are no other occupants in the facility, besides you.”

           Tony would’ve usually gotten mad for being interrupted, but he stands shocked at the news. He rubs a hand down his face and groans, “Where’s everyone and why did they not inform me?” The last part is more to himself than to the A.I.

           “They should actually be returning now, as it seems, Sir.”

           As soon as F.R.I.D.A.Y. finished, the elevator door opens behind him. He turns around and is greeted by a troubling sight. Peter’s carrying two shopping bags from the Candy Palace, one hefty bag in each hand, but the odd thing is that he isn’t smiling. After taking the kid out bowling, Tony just assumed he thoroughly enjoyed his time with Happy, but something seems off. He’s slightly relieved when Peter’s face lights up when he notices Tony standing in front of them. However, Peter’s smile is positively forced.

           “Candy? Happy…you bought him _candy_ for what? Breakfast? Lunch? Linner? Because you are definitely not eating candy for dinner,” Tony watches the two arriving guests halt their movements, Peter casting his eyes down and Happy swallowing.

           “Actua-”

           “Mr. Stark? Um…” Peter cuts off Happy, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care. “C-can we just play some video games in…in my room, today?”

           Tony glances to Happy who looks just as confused as he does. He looks to Peter who still has his head tilted down, “Yeah, sure. Sounds fun. But you still aren’t eating candy for dinner _or_ a snack. You need real food…And I said you can call me Tony. It’s okay. Um, I’ll meet you in your room, ‘kay? I need to talk to your ‘super cool’ big bro, Happy, for a sec.”

           Peter adjusts his grip on his bags and makes his way to his room, “O-okay, Mr. T-Tony…”

           Tony ruffles Peter’s hair as he walks past him, “Well, that’s not- er, close enough, kid.” He turns to Happy and waits for Peter to enter the other room before speaking, “What happened? I thought he was doing just fine. Well, maybe not “fine”, but good, I guess. What did you do? Not that I think you did someth- okay, yeah, I think you did something. Nothing bad, just something- just tell me what the hell happened.” Happy looks almost as bad as Peter and Tony’s hopping the news isn’t as bad as he believes it’s going to be.

           “I caught Peter trying to harm himself this morning,” Happy tiredly said, Tony holds his breath but is relieved at the key word ‘tried’. He lets Happy continue, “He was in the middle of a panic attack…he’s still a little tired, is all. And as you can obviously tell, I took him to the Candy Palace. His wishes, not mine. I guess I shouldn’t have told him I’d get him anything.”

           “No, you did good. But, I should get back to him. I don’t want him thinking about anything too…” Tony doesn’t have to say it, they both know how fragile Peter’s mind is at the moment and Tony heads to Peter’s room.

           Peter wasn’t in the adjoining room, sitting on a game chair in front of the T.V. like Tony expected. Candy wrappers littered the floor and Tony swears he told him he wasn’t allowed to eat any. He hears heaving in the restroom connected to Peter’s bedroom and is instantly brought back to his first mission: Peter. He makes his way to the restroom and sees Peter finishing and flushing the toilet. He wobbles to his feet and rinses the taste from his mouth. Saying how miserable he looks is an understatement, the kid’s expression is utter devastation. Without a word, Peter walks past him and heads back to the games, with Tony trailing behind feeling useless. Peter hands Tony a PS4 remote and takes his seat in the game chair adjacent to Tony. Peter’s antsy, he won’t stop moving or bouncing his leg. He’s chewing his lip and it almost looks like he has to try even harder to focus on the television screen than normal. His skin is turning a tad shade green, Tony notices, and before he has time to speak, Peter is out of his chair and heading to the bathroom. Tony follows him and catches the door before Peter shuts it on him. To his horror, he sees Peter stick his fingers down his throat. Nothing comes up, most likely emptied from the first time he threw up, which has actually been self-induced, Tony realizes. He hurries to Peter’s side and prevents Peter from sticking his fingers in again and pulls him back onto his lap.

           “Stop it, Peter…Please, please don’t do that. Talk to me. This silent treatment isn’t going to make it better. I don’t know what’s wrong or how to fix it. Please, talk to me.”

           Peter wheezes as he tries to catch his breath and closes his eyes. He rests his head against Tony’s chest and shakes his head. Tony hears a quiet whimper and decides against forcing Peter to speak if he doesn’t want to. He lifts him off the floor and settles Peter onto his bed, pulling the sheets up as Peter rolls onto his stomach and looks away from Tony.

           Peter can feel Tony staring at the back of his head and he wishes he can sink into the mattress. He can’t tell Tony what happened, not only is it embarrassing but it feels like he’s exposing himself more than he already has. All Peter wanted was to try some candy before Tony came upstairs, but he didn’t know it would make him sick. Not because he didn’t eat anything yet, he wishes that were the reason, but he tried a new kind of sour candy. It was called “Toxic Goo” and apparently it was Hulk flavored (whatever that meant, but it no doubt peaked his curiosity). He squeezed the plastic tube of Toxic Good and let the contents drip onto his tongue, however he instantly regretted it. The room temperature slime slid down his throat taking him back to all those times Wilson forced himself in his mouth. Just thinking about it makes him feel rotten inside, as if he needs to purge all the filth out. But Tony’s here, and usually he craves the closeness, yet at this moment right now he feels conflicted. He wants to feel Tony’s sturdy arms around him, putting him to sleep, nevertheless…he wants Tony to leave. And that one thought makes him feel criminal. Guilty.

           Still…

           “I…I remembered him…a lot today…” Peter’s voice is soft, whisper-like, and tight. It isn’t the whole truth, but it’s enough. He feels the bed dip and knows Tony is sitting by his side. He wants to tell him to get away from him, though he also wants him to continue with whatever means of comfort he’ll provide. Hopping that Tony doesn’t ask for any details, he turns his head towards his mentor and sees how hard Tony is trying to keep his countenance. He can tell Tony wants to be sad, wants to be angry and he knows it won’t be directed at him but at Coach Wilson, and he’s alright with all those things. It’s comforting just knowing that Tony is hurting almost as much as he is, and yeah that’s probably selfish…but Happy said being selfish is alright once in a while. So, he doesn’t apologize for making Tony sad, because for once, he wants someone to be depressed with him. He doesn’t fight it when Tony rubs circles in his back, his warm hand pressing lightly into his sore and tense muscles, making warmth radiate up his back and in his belly. He doesn’t fight it when anchors weigh his eyelids down and darkness greets him. He simple absorbs the warm touch and shushed words that lull him to sleep. It’s hard to believe, with feeling the way he does, that warm lips pressed to his forehead can tug the corners of his lips into a miniscule smile. But he doesn’t fight it.

 

1:54 a.m.

           He sits up, a hiccupped-sob dying in the dark room. He’s sweating and rubs a hand over his eyes to prevent the salt from stinging him. The darkness seems to be expanding, reaching for him to pull him back into Coach Wilson’s grasp.

           “F.R.I.D.A.Y., lights!” His panic-laced command prompted all bright lights to instantly flash on, momentarily sending a shock behind his eyeballs, blinding him. He slowly adjusts to the brightness and tells the A.I. to dim the lights. The feeling of his tormentor’s fingers still lingers on his cold skin, provoking a tremble to course through him. It would be a lie to say he isn’t upset to find that Tony hadn’t decided to sleep in his room. _Mr. Stark_. He whips his head around the room, searching for any intruders as the paranoia sets in. After listening to Happy’s lecture yesterday morning, he knows that both men would be extremely disappointed in him if he cut without attempting to find one of them first. So, he gets out of bed and asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. for directions to Tony’s room. A storm is picking up outside, the thunder shaking the large facility as lightning flares through the ginormous windows. In no way is the storm helping calm his already skewed nerves.

           He stands in front of Tony’s bedroom door and forgets why he even bothered to come here. What would Tony think if he shows up like a toddler, begging for comfort? He doesn’t give it much thought as a particularly loud crash of thunder sends his hand flying to the doorknob. He quickly closes the door behind him as another bang rings through his ears. Being this far upstate means he’s also never experienced a storm as loud as this one; in fact, a typical Queens storm doesn’t normally get this loud. Perhaps on occasions, but never one since he’s become Spider-Man, which only makes his ears ring and head pulsate. He’s now standing a foot away from the edge of Tony’s bed, looking at his mentor sleeping on his side, one arm under the pillow and the other laying lazily in front of him. Lightning covers everything in the room and Peter forgets all about his initial reason for coming here- now it’s about finding safety from the storm.

           “Mr-Mr. Stark,” Peter called quietly, nearly fearful to wake him up. _What are you doing? Are you honestly going to wake up Iron Man to tell him you’re afraid of a little thunder and lightning? He already thinks you’re, like, twelve!_

           Thunder rocks the room, making Peter recoil and grab his ears, “Mr. Stark!” Peter’s cry causes Tony to take in a large breath through his nose and change positions. It honestly scared Peter watching Tony stir more than listening to the thunder. _You aren’t scared of thunder, Peter. You aren’t scared of thunder. Just go back to your room and pretend like you almost didn’t make a fool out of yourself. You aren’t scared-_

           Lightning fills the room and Peter flinches for what’s to follow, “Mr. Stark…Mr. Stark…Please, Mr. Stark,” Peter steps nearer and goes to prod at Tony’s cheek. Thunder, louder than the rest, bounces around the room and sends punches through Peter’s head.

           “Tony!” Peter’s previous decision to poke his cheek has turned into the idea to slap him. Tony’s eyes fly open wide and he cringes back from Peter before distinguishing the shaking boy before him.

           “Peter! W-what the heck are you doing?” Tony asked, followed by a yawn. He rubs his cheek and opens his mouth to stretch his jaw, “And…did you _slap_ me?”

           “I-I’m so, so, so, so, sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn’t mean to, it’s just that the thunder sc-” Peter catches himself and freezes, not knowing how else to continue.

           Tony immediately recognizes what Peter was about to say and stares at him openmouthed, “You’re scared of thunder, kid? That why you came here? That’s fine, uh,” Tony thinks of what to do and studies Peter closely. His hair is a mess of curls and waves, his eyes large and clearly terrified, and his shaking hands are over his ears- _oh…_

           “So, you aren’t scared of thunder?” Although Tony knows that Peter is actually experiencing a higher dose of sensory input right now, he can’t help with teasing the kid.

           “N-no. I swear,” Peter’s voice shakes.

           “Then what did you need from me, Petey?” Tony watches Peter search around the room for an answer and quips before he has one, “Here, climb in.”

           Tony lifts the sheets and Peter has to fight himself from crawling in, “I…don’t need to-”

           Lightning illuminates Peter’s frightened features and he braces himself with his hands over his ears.

           “Kid, it’s alright if you want to cud-” The air is knocked out of him as Peter barrels into him, bumping their bodies next to each other as thunder cracks and rumbles outside. Tony’s only now able to truly feel how seriously Peter is trembling, how quickly he’s breathing and all joking is put aside. Peter presses his hands firmly against his ears and scoots closer (if possible) and rubs the top of his head under Tony’s chin. Tony lets it happen, he even brings an arm over Peter’s shuddering shoulders and relaxes his previously tense body. He shushes him, providing solace to Peter – even if he can’t necessarily hear him with the kid’s hands pressing into his ears. A wetness soaks into the front of his shirt as another roar sends ripples through the room. Tony doesn’t comment on Peter’s tears and consoles him quietly. The storm reaches it’s peak and starts to fade away. Peter sleeps soundly, wrapped in Tony’s arms.


	9. Reflect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still in shock with the response you guys have shown towards this story and also for my audition. Thank you all so much. Seriously, a thousand kisses. 
> 
> When I accomplish my dreams, I'm going to invite all the people who have helped me to, like, I don't know partay haha watch Spider-Man movies and what not. 
> 
> Thank you, loves!

~~Reflect~~

* * *

 

 

Thursday

          Peter is going home tomorrow and Tony can’t help but feel down about it. After the kid’s brief falling back, he’s started making small progress each and everyday. Happy mentioned to Tony how shy Peter’s become around strangers and foreign places, so he’s prompted taking him out as much a possible. Going to parks to be in large unknown areas, restaurants and making him speak to the waitress/waiter, going back to the bowling alley packed with people, and the two caretakers for the week have started encouraging Peter into beginning the conversations with them. Tuesday was a little rough, he had to admit, and it was partly his fault for dragging the kid out there in the first place. Basketball isn’t necessarily a sport he partakes in all the time, but he figured a little courtside bonding wouldn’t hurt, and Happy couldn’t stop smiling at the idea. He had no idea that Peter would be triggered into having an anxiety attack.

          One of the coaches recognized Tony and told him his daughter was a huge Iron Man fan, they shook hands and everything was dandy. He looked to Peter with a friendly smile and asked the kid how he was enjoying the game. He extended his hand but Peter withdrew and said he had to use the bathroom. Happy and Tony both knew it a cry for help and Tony apologized to the coach for the sudden departure. The look, the pure panic, in Peter’s eyes provided enough reason to quickly leave the facility. In the car, Peter couldn’t stop crying, he was pulling his hair, gasping and saying he wanted May. It took the whole ride back to the Avengers new building before Peter calmed down enough to doze a little against Tony’s shoulder. Luckily, Tony started this “thing” with Peter and him about talking through his feelings and fears. Peter hesitantly opened up about how all he could see in the basketball coach was Wilson. Peter was humiliated by his “baby-like behavior” and wouldn’t stop apologizing. Tony learned that Peter has a fear of coaches, a fear he’s trying to relieve Peter from. He lays out all the differences between Whiz Wilson and that of all the other coaches. Yes, he does advise being cautious and not straight forward to trust, but that doesn’t mean live in fear and hate all coaches he comes into contact with. That goes for just about everyone, as well. However, not everyone has evil intentions. The area is pretty gray. Peter’s still coming to terms with that, but it’s certainly getting better.

          Wednesday, they walked through the park and simply fed the ducks. Peter named a predominantly disgruntled looking duck “Happy”, which made the lovely Happy Hogan’s exaggerated frown deepen. That had been a good day, one of the best by far. Peter laughed and smiled sincerely and showed no signs of his past, and extremely fresh, trauma. Tony bought him new sneakers, not that he had anything against Peter’s worn, dingy, scuffed, off-brand and holey shoes, he just thought the kid could use an upgrade. And he began to think that Peter needed an entirely new outfit now, so Tony flew him to Italy and bought some new outfits that didn’t have science or math related jokes on them, not that they bothered him; however, to prove it he bought him a bundle pack of t-shirts from a Walmart back in the states with all sorts of jokes that had Peter rolling. He made the kid, who wouldn’t stop blushing, try the shirts on in a fashion show like manner to present them to Happy, who sat on the couch trying not to laugh. What made Tony feel better most of all, was the little amount of weight Peter had put back on. It wasn’t back up to his normal weight, not with the kid’s increased metabolism, but it’ll get there in a week or so. And Happy doesn’t have that look as if he’s caused Peter all this pain and he actually plays nice with Peter now. He’s also attempted putting his foot down when Peter asked to go get ice cream but ultimately lost when Peter brought out the puppy-dog eyes.

          And Tony’s loved every second, every moment, every laugh that involves Peter. Howard never exactly showed him the type of love and affection Tony craved, and Peter never had a father, nor a mother, to begin with. Then his uncle was murdered. So, this is where Tony comes in, and he wants to end the cycle of shame by bringing Peter up right. In a way, Peter also makes him a better person, not that he would tell anyone that…If someone found out how much this kid means to him, if word got out…everyone knows Stark publicity spreads like wildfire. Tony doesn’t need the world knowing, he doesn’t need some villain threatening Peter’s life or using it against him. Which means no one can know. It’s kept so tightly against his chest that sometimes, he even forgets that he truly wants nothing but the best for Peter. He wishes he could express that sentiment openly, but the risks are petrifying that he believes it’s best to keep them secret. Starks are good at keeping their emotions hidden, if what he’s learned from growing up has any weight in the argument. But, his mother, now she was a woman that always showed her love. Perhaps that’s why Tony isn’t completely heartless. He wants to make sure the world doesn’t disrupt that naïve, pure, and child-like amazement of all things scientific that makes up what is Peter.

          Well, that’s what he thought yesterday. But it’s Thursday now and Happy has gone to meet with Pepper about the Europe branch in his stead which left him with Peter, who is sitting on the couch in front of him while he paces anxiously.

          “Um…Mr. Stark, are you alright?” Peter asked, his voice filled with concern for his mentor and hero.

          “What? Oh…yeah, kid…” Tony almost forgot Peter’s right there, waiting for whatever it is Tony needs to tell him. If he’s able to get a word out at all, that is. Tony had the greatest idea in his workshop last night about wanting to tell Peter how he truly feels. He believes it will give Peter the self-confidence and support he needs. It isn’t a secret that Peter looks up to him like a father, and as much as Tony feels uncomfortable about it, no matter how much he wishes Peter would choose a better father figure, he can’t help the warmth he feels. Watching the giddy excitement surround Peter whenever Tony says he wants to hang out with just the two of them, or when he brings Peter to the workshop and they tinker for hours until one of them falls asleep on the bench- which always happens to be the kid. He stops pacing and looks at Peter with a serious expression. He runs his fingers though his hair and takes a deep, preparational breath.

          “Kid…um, Peter, I want to tell you something. Now, I’m not good with words- well, I’m good with words in a diplomatic, business, seductive, or crime fighting situation. And when I’m talking to Bruce about all my tech and- okay, you get the point.” Peter nods hastily and Tony continues, “And as amazing and self-assuring as I am, talking about my… _feelings_ isn’t something I’ve mastered. But, you need to hear this because what I’m about to say may very well change your life. Maybe not change your life, but definitely give you something to, sort of, kinda lean on. I’m rambling. I…I care about you, kid. There. Said it. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

          “I do believe you planned to say more than that, Sir, had you opted on keeping it secret?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked. Tony knew she had been watching him rehearse this part many times in the mirror, but to call him out on it was uncool, even if she is trying to help.

          Tony rubs his eyes in annoyance, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., mute.”

          “What are you keeping a secret, Mr. Stark? I can handle it, I promise,” Peter sounded eager, and Tony assumes it’s because he just told the kid he cares about him. Well, he’s gone this far, might as well jump.

          “I know you look up to me, more than just me being your mentor or Iron Man. You look up to _me_. As as…as a parental figure,” He catches Peter blush and hurries to reassure him, “That isn’t bad, kid, and it sure as hell doesn’t make me angry. I think it’s…look, what I’m trying to say it…I don’t mind you thinking of me to fill that role. I remember telling myself that I was going to try and help you, not just because you’re a young up-and-coming superhero, but because you need a stronger foundation in your life. Don’t get me wrong, Aunt May is one hell of a woman, and not just in the looks department,” Tony laughs and Peter scrunches his nose. “I want you to have more people to lean on, to find strength through whenever you feel like you can’t walk on your own. If you ever, for any reason, feel like you need to talk you now have two people who will go to great lengths to make you happy. I’ll be here for you, Peter. Albeit I was a lot older than you, I know what it’s like growing up without parents. My own father wasn’t the best and he didn’t support me in a lot of ways, and I want you to grow up and become the best hero out there by giving you all the support you need. I just…don’t want you to end up like me. It’s not the life you want.

          "Sure, I may have everything at my fingertips, but nothing ever lasts. Love endures, though. Even after they’ve left you. And I want you to know that I…I lo…um, I really care about you. A lot. I’ve been thinking about this since you denied being an Avenger and I have a proposition. When you graduate, you can come live here and become an Avenger- full-time or part-time, that’s your choice. You can go to college, if that’s what you would like, and I’ll get you into the best one out there. I’ll even make room for May, if you decide you’ll ever tell her your secret…Alright, now I’m done.”

          The silence is unbearable. Tony has just thrown himself out in the open and he’s never felt so naked in his life as he watches the teen slowly take everything in with wide eyes. He’s thrown off guard when Peter jumps off the couch and launches himself at Tony, wrapping his strong arms around Tony’s torso.

          “Mr. Stark…I don’t- that was- whoa…Thank you,” Peter’s voice is emotional and on the verge of, what Tony hopes isn’t, tears.

          He wanted to make Peter happy, and exposing himself was supposed to do that. He feels a wetness grow on his chest and rubs Peter’s back soothingly, an action he’s become increasingly more comfortable with as time goes on. Peter’s mumbling unintelligibly as he shudders against Tony.

          “Kid, I- I didn’t mean to make you cry…I didn’t say anything wrong, or did I? I have a tendency to say things I believe is awesomely amazing but other people- most people, actually, find the things I say to be extremely not-”

          “Mr. Stark, nothing you said was bad…” Peter pulls away from Tony with a smile stretching from ear to ear. “I’m just a little overwhelmed is all…I’ve…That was something I’ve, um, been wanting to hear, but I just thought you would never- I mean, I thought I sorta bothered you sometimes,” Peter lets out a relieved laugh. “But, that was just…wow. Thank you, Mr. Stark- er…Thank you…Tony.”

          Tony smiles, the tension leaving his shoulder. He ruffles Peter’s hair and knows that things are going to get better, because Tony won’t allow anything but a bright future for this kid.

~

          Today’s been one of the best days he’s had since finding out he had spider powers. Tony Stark said he cares about him, better yet, he told Peter he accepts the father figure role. Peter doesn’t know how to even respond to that. What could he possibly say besides “thank you”? His smile hasn’t dropped once today, not even when Happy told him no when he asked to go back to the Candy Palace. It’s a dream come true. He’s always thought about working with Tony when he was younger, to study along side him and discuss ways to improve the Iron Man suit (not that Peter believed it could get any cooler). And now he’s standing here with his mentor, hero, and all things he wishes to be in the legendary workshop deciding what should be added to his own superhero suit.

          So, why did he have to screw it up by being weird about it all? He’s fidgety and nervous because if he messes up or does something stupid, what if Tony takes back what he said and leaves him? The downfall of having people in your life that you care about is the fear of them leaving. He’s going home tomorrow, all he needs to do is keep up a relatively decent state of being until then and he should be fine.

          He let’s Tony do most of the talking while he just hands him tools and takes notes at the genius’ work. His web shooter now has the ability to shoot twice as fast with five times better accuracy. Plus, an added bonus of being able to contain more of the web fluid so he doesn’t have to “reload” during any serious moments. Peter suggested added an infrared sensor in his lenses to detect possible threats behind walls or in buildings. Also, the possibility of having night vision, making his lenses glow softly. Tony thought they were both great ideas to add to the suit, but something he’ll need to tinker with for the next visit. _The next visit_ , Peter thought giddily.

          “You’re a smart kid, glad I took you under my wing. Must be a genius thing. Hand me that screw driver,” Tony said, point at the tool box to his right.

          Peter reaches for the screw driver but freezes when he sees a small, black spider resting on the edge of the metal box. His outstretched hand begins to shake and he takes a step backward, bringing his hands to his chest to hug himself. He can’t stop looking at it, it’s beady little eyes drilling holes into his soul. Tony told him he had the place sprayed after that first spider incident, what was this little devil doing here?

          “I-it’s on the…Mr. Stark, it- it’s on it. It’s touching it. It’s, oh my gosh, it’s going to jump at me, Mr. Stark get it,” Peter can’t move, he’s frozen on the spot as the spider stares him down.

          “Peter, we’ve talked about this. It won’t attack you if you don’t do anything. I’ll call down Happy and he’ll capture it and drive it to the same place he dropped off the other one.”

          “No! They’ll become friends and come after me.”

          “Peter…that doesn’t even make sense. Oh, look Happy’s here to save the day.”

          Peter doesn’t say anything, the tension building as Happy captures the spider in a small jar and fastens the lid. Peter inches further away and watches Happy leave without saying a word. The glass door to the workshop shuts and locks, and Peter finally lets out a relieved breath before slumping his shoulders forward.

          “Spider-Man, you should really learn to accept what you’ve become,” Tony said with a smile laugh as he continues to work on Peter’s suit.

          “Ha-ha. If you were attacked by a bunch of spiders and then turn _into_ one, I’m pretty sure you’d fear them too,” Peter trudges over to resume his spot next to Tony, occasionally looking back at the tool box as if the spider left traces of it’s presence.

          “You still didn’t get the screw driver.”

          “O-oh…” Peter looks over to the tool box and slowly reaches for the tool, his whole body cringing just thinking about how the spider was here only moments ago. He jumps into the air, a small yelp escaping him, when Tony grabs his shoulders and yells “boo!”

          Tony’s laughing, hand holding his stomach while the other hold the metal workbench for support, “You- you should’ve seen your f-face.”

          “That wasn’t funny…” Peter pouts and grabs the screw driver quickly and turns back to Tony.

          “Oh, trust me, it was. Hey, come on it was just a joke. Stop pouting, kid.”

          “I’m not pouting,” Peter’s definitely pouting. Tony approaches him and tells him to smile. Peter turns away and clutches the screw driver against his chest as he crosses his arms. He’s poked in the ribs, making a shiver run up his side. Before he knows it, Tony is tickling him. _The_ Tony Stark is tickling him. Peter finally smiles and lets out pathetic, forced laughs and tries to squirm away. He’s out of breath and his struggles are useless. Without thinking, Peter calls to Tony, “S-stop, p-pl-ease! Please, d-dad, stop.”

          Peter falls to the floor as Tony drops him. The screw driver clangs against the floor in the awkward silence. Tony is staring at him in shock, and what looks to be a mix of horror and fear. Peter stutters an apology and grabs the screw driver off the floor before placing it on the workbench next to the spider suit. He hurries out the door, his face burning with humility. _Why did you say that? He’s going to think you’re so weird, or worse! He’s going to think you have weird daddy-issues._

          For the rest of the night, Peter locks himself away in his room and tries to come up with all the ways Tony is dealing with the embarrassing ordeal. He could be laughing, drinking, telling Happy how terrible it is, or maybe he’s working on an Iron Man suit to get his mind off it completely. No one has bothered him, either, which means Tony doesn’t want to see him right now. But that’s okay, because Peter doesn’t know what he’ll say to him if he did come up here. Peter packs his bags and decides to go to bed early, if he can get any sleep.

 

Friday

          The ride back is awkwardly unpleasant and consists of small talk and difficult silences. Peter can’t look him in the eyes, so he decides to stare out the window and hope he doesn’t say anything else that’s stupid and needy. He thanks his lucky stars that they’ve finally made it in front of his apartment, but now he has to face the goodbyes and uncomfortable conversations. Or at least that’s what he thought.

          “Here’s my cell number, Peter. Call if you ever need me, or if Happy goes back to not answering his phone again,” Tony said, handing him a business card.

          “Hey, I won’t do that anymore, don’t give the kid any false hopes in me. See you around, Pete,” Happy said. He get’s out of the car to fetch Peter’s bags and stands outside of the car next to the kid’s door.

          “O-oh,” Is all Peter can say.

          Tony leans over him, and Peter sits back, waiting for him to open the door. But the door doesn’t open and Tony is just inclined close to him.

          “Are you not going to hug me?” Tony asked.

          “Oh!” Peter quickly wraps his arms around Tony and squeezes lightly, taking in the billionaire’s scent for the last time in who knows how long.

          Tony opens the door and pats Peter’s knee, “See you later, kid.”

          Peter gets out of the car without another word and grabs his belongings from Happy, who only smiles at him before entering the car and driving away. Peter jogs to the elevator, the excitement of seeing May overriding the uncomfortable last moments with Tony and Happy. May is jumping and hugging him as he comes through the door. She’s smiling because he’s smiling, but he knows she’s hurting on the inside ever sense she found out about what’s been happening with him after school. They go out to eat and have Thai, at one of their favorite spots.

          Overall, it’s been a long day and Peter can’t stop thinking about his slip up the other night, as he lays in bed staring at the ceiling. He pulls out his phone and enters Tony’s number as “Mr. Stark”. _Just one text…that’s it._

          **To Tony:**

**8:51 p.m.**

          _Sorry about what I said to you the other day._

_Oh, its Peter_

_Parker_

_Spider-Man_

         

          Okay, so maybe four texts. Peter falls asleep waiting for a reply.

 

Monday

          School is back in session, and even though Coach Wilson has left the grid, Peter still feels sick and scared. He checks his phone and still hasn’t received a reply from Tony, and Peter thinks it’s because Tony gave him a fake number. _No! He would never do that…he’s just busy._

          May tells him he should stay home today, but Ned’s been wanting to show him his new limited-edition comic book, and to be honest he’s missed his best friend dearly. So, he slips on his sixteenth backpack and marches out the door with a freshly planted kiss on his check from his aunt. He meets up with Ned on the way there and he’s instantly put at ease. The constant joking and atmosphere brings him back to the better days. The day goes relatively slow, but easy, as he slips back into routine. Until his last class of the day, and he’s standing outside of the classroom in fear. He can see that they have a new coach, a woman who doesn’t look threatening in the tiniest bit. And he swears he’s seen her in the Avengers building as one of Tony’s assistants. She smiles at him and motions for him to come into the classroom. More and more students pass by him as he stays glued to the floor. His pocket vibrates and he pulls out his phone.

          **To Peter**

**1:58 p.m.**

          _Have fun in school, son._

_Love you._

_Delete that._

_Actually, I’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. delete that, but I’m going to need you to delete that from your brain._

          Peter quickly screenshots it and takes the first step inside the classroom. His hands are shaking and he clutches the phone tight in his clammy grip. Ned beckons him over and he sits next to him. Coach Tessa introduces herself, and Peter relaxes. Maybe P.E. won’t be so bad anymore. He takes a deep breath and smiles at the texts from Tony. He exhales and raises his hand to answer a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter.
> 
> xoxo
> 
> J
> 
> p.s. If you want to keep up with how the Clapit audition is going, I'll have it announced on my Instagram @JeanCarmenn (two n's)


End file.
